


Confide/ant

by SashaDistan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Breaking Up & Making Up, Closeted Character, College, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fucking, Guitars, Heavily Shiro inspired but from before i knew who he was, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Nerdiness, Orgasm Control, Praise Kink, Rival Sex, Rivalry, Rock Band, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Showers, Size Difference, Submission, Ultimatums, sex all over campus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan
Summary: When guitar wielding Marty happens upon know-it-all nerd Hrishi naked, hard, and jerky off in the showers at college, he thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. But Hrishi is stronger than he looks, and Marty is about to discover that he has hidden depths himself.
Comments: 31
Kudos: 37





	1. 1

I doubt he knows I’m watching him. If he did, he’d probably stop, or slap me if he’s feeling brave, but he certainly wouldn’t just keep going like that. Surely, he can’t know I’m watching him.

It’s unspeakably early for a Tuesday morning. I left the house to avoid my parents and their arguments. They were loud enough this time that I could hear them all the way from my bedroom in the east wing of the house, a fancy name for the semi-independent extension my father had built so he could quietly get me out of the way. But that was back when he and mum were still on speaking terms. These days, it’s stony silences and blazing rows: I’m never sure which is worse. The music building, my home away from home, isn’t open yet so I came to the sports complex. I run laps until I feel sick then jog back to get my stuff. Passing the showers, I hear a noise, and then I can’t help myself.

It takes all my self-control now, not to act, not to say something which will make him realise I’m there and watching his every move.

Hrishi Sethi is standing under the shower, naked, his long hair pulled over one shoulder, masturbating. His eyes are closed, but he hasn’t shut the curtain. His face is turned the other way giving me a clear unadulterated view of his slim brown body; his fist moving furiously over his cock. I pause, desperately wanting to join him, but somehow too scared to act. If he bolts, I’ll have revealed myself for nothing. If he runs his mouth, it’ll be even worse: my parents keep up on social media, and I don’t want their bitter anger turned on me instead of each other. And, even though it’s early and there’s no one else around, we are in the sports centre of our sixth form college; and, the doors don’t lock.

On top of that, he’s a jerk, a nerd, and he acts like I’m dumber than the sole of his shoe. It’s risky.

Hrishi’s panting distracts me from all my other thoughts, and as I watch him roll his hips into his hands, my resolve to leave him alone crumbles. I undress as fast as I can without making any noise, and slip into the cubicle behind him. The moment I enter the hot spray of water, his chocolate brown eyes snap open and he grunts, covering his cock with his hands. He thinks I’m about to beat him up or this is some strange game of gay-chicken. I can see it in his face; fear mixed with frustration and lust. I slip my arms around his slim torso brushing over his tight pecs and his dark nipples. He moans and bites his lip; I never realised how super-white his teeth were before.

“Keep going,” I murmur into his hair, my voice at least an octave lower than I’m used to hearing. He grunts in relief, and I am only just holding onto my self-control as he wraps his fingers once more around his throbbing dick. I watch over his shoulder still touching his skin, knowing he can feel my own penis thickening against his butt and the small of his back. His chest’s heaving, and the pink head of his cock revealed by his tight foreskin vanishing in and out of his fist through the water makes me want to spin him around and touch him myself. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

He speeds up, and I know he’s close. I trace a line from under his ear to his shoulder with my lips and bite down on the smooth flesh. He cries out in pain as I pull up a bruise the size of my thumb, but his free hand reaches up and tries to grab the back of my hair. It’s fucking hot.

I wonder what he’ll look like when he comes, what he’ll do. Is he one of those guys who shouts or swears? I think about his cum, whether it’ll be like mine, or thicker, or maybe it’ll be thin and clear and shoot all the way up to his chin.

“Ungh…” He’s so close, his fist moving in a blur over his cock. I can’t help myself; I just have to touch him.

“You’re beautiful.” I mutter softly against his skin, dropping my hand to his hip and bringing my fingers over the exposed head of his cock just as he comes. Hrishi practically growls, but doesn’t say anything as his thick ejaculate coats my fingers for a brief moment, before the water of the shower washes it away. This is by far, the most turned on I’ve ever been in my life.

He slumps back against my chest, panting, his lungs heaving with the requirements for oxygen; the top of his head barely reaches my collarbone. I can feel his thighs trembling against mine and wrap an arm around his waist to support him. He weighs more than he looks like he should in my arms. I feel like I should say something smart or witty, but my brain is full of rampant horniness, and my cock is trying to nestle in the cleft of Hrishi’s smooth butt. I didn’t take the time to look at him properly, so I roam over his body with my free hand and squeeze the mound of firm flesh. I want him, and he must be able to tell.

“You can’t fuck me yet.” They are not the first words I expect to come out of his mouth, but right now I can barely remember my own name, so I’m not sure what I’m expecting.

“Alright.” I’m already panting even before my hand reaches my cock, and I know I’m not going to last very long at all. I jack myself right up against him, a combination of my own fingers and his smooth flesh rubbing along my length. My lips return to the hickey on his shoulder, brushing over the skin I’ve damaged, as he turns his head to bite my ear lobe.

“Come. Now.”

His voice pulls my orgasm up from my balls, right through my system, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode as I ejaculate against his back.

“Fuuuck!”

I can barely stand, but Hrishi seems to have recovered and he steps away as the evidence of my orgasm vanishes into the shower drain.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” He glares at me, his eyes hard and suddenly unreadable. I thought I was so in control of the situation; but it appears, I was to be wrong. “I’ll be in the computer lab at lunch.” He steps forward and my mind flashes into a brief fantasy where he smiles, reaches up and kisses me with those soft lips. Instead, his mouth is a hard line. “Don’t make me come fucking looking for you Marty.”

He is gone as quickly as I appeared. By the time I make it into the changing rooms in my now slightly damp jeans and yanking my black vest on over my head as I go, Hrishi has vanished.

*

I carry my checked shirt over one arm even though it’s sort of cold, and I feel strange walking through the college building with my hair wet and unstyled. I hadn’t had the foresight to bring a towel with me, so all I have is a pocketful of plectrums and my harmonica. By the time I reach the main building, the hair and beauty department is open and there are clients in there already.

In our sixth form, the social hierarchy is a bit strange. Everyone has to do a sport of some type as a mandatory requirement, but there isn’t a PE course, so there are no jocks. The social life of the school is controlled in part by the girls from hair and beauty therapy, and generally provided by the music department. There’s a gig or a jam session to see every night of the year around here. And I’m lucky because though I’m not the most handsome guy in school, I’m pretty popular. I play guitar, lead and rhythm, keyboards, and flute, though hardly anyone knows that fact, and I sing pretty well too. The hair and beauty girls love me and they indulge my slightly erratic hairstyle habits.

“Hey, Marty.” Christina, wearing her all black uniform of short trousers and fitted tunic, is hanging over the front desk . “No guitar today? You not going to serenade us?”

“Is it raining?” Bayley glances up from the appointment book then frowns at me. “You lost the product we gave you, didn’t you?”

“No, I just forgot…” It’s only a little lie because I didn’t spend ten extra seconds in the house this morning to find matching socks, let alone style my fringe. “Help me?”

“C’mon…” Bayley takes my hand and leads me deeper into the teaching salon. Her black curls are styled and highlighted with strands of sparkly gold, and I’m faintly jealous. She shoves me into a chair and I glance at my reflection, feeling faintly guilty.

I attacked Hrishi Sethi in the shower. However I’d like to dress it up as a sexy rendezvous, I can’t hide the fact that I basically molested him or that it felt so fucking good too. I liked his uncertainly, his sudden shyness, and the way he’d basically ignored me until he’d tried to grab hold of my hair. For the first time, I regret letting Bayley shave the back and sides of my previously permanently spiked black hair. I think Hrishi was totally into what happened in the shower, but the way he glared at me afterwards makes me feel like a stain on the carpet. He’s a cocky son-of-a-bitch when there’s no one around to see it or when he’s putting someone down for not knowing some technical computer fact. I hate that it makes me like him all the more.

Bayley ruffles clay-textured fingers through my fringe and begins to style it with little twists and tugs.

“I still think you should let us dye it for you.”

“Totally,” the girl next to us whose name I can’t remember agrees. “It’d totally go with that rock star thing you’ve got going on.”

“Thanks.” I give her a good smile. I might not really like girls, but they don’t know that.

“She’s right. And we could colour it to match your guitar…” Bayley finishes my hair and squeezes my shoulders with a grin. “Think it over Marty. You’d have everyone drooling after you…”

I leave what spare coins I have ferreted away in my pockets in the tip jar on my way out, and head to the music building, and my locker.

I started keeping everything in my locker back in September when it became clear my parents’ arguments were going to get worse. We all get storage room for our instruments, and whilst my very favourite Telecaster and most of my amps are home, I keep a second Fender in my locker along with a tiny carry around amp which runs on nine-volt batteries. But, I don’t reach for that. I grab my bag and books, snatch the slim case of my flute and head to one of the practice rooms. I need time to think.

The flute was my first instrument as a kid. It’s the least fashionable, but I didn’t care when I was six. My flute teacher was this really cool old guy with long hair and an earring. I’d been playing for two years before I realised that this was my parents’ way of getting me out of the house so I wouldn’t hear them fighting. By that time, he’d given me a CD of Jethro Tull and I remember staring at the pictures of the lead singer standing on one leg with his hair streaming out behind him as he played his flute to thousands upon thousands of screaming fans. Since then, I’ve learnt many of their songs, and now I find my fingers moving over the keys, playing a melody as tight and frustrated as I feel.

I wish my parents still cared about me hearing them shouting at each other. Though I know neither of them is naturally violent, every now and then, there’s the sound of things breaking. When there’s tension in the room now, I know to leave, hide myself away with music turned up loud, and try not to think about what’s going on between them. They hate each other that much is clear, but they are both too proud and too stubborn to let the relationship go. Bitterly, I think sometimes they’re doing it for me and wish I could tell them how much I hate my life at home.

I should feel sated and relaxed because I’ve come in the shower against Hrishi’s skin and watched him jerking off, but I don’t. I close my eyes as I play and remember the texture of his lips, the salt and spicy taste of his skin when I bit him: I’ll never want for masturbation material again. His body is different than I thought it might be, his skin smoother than I thought possible, and far more muscle definition than I associated with his nerdy skill set. Along with our college’s assertion that everyone has to do sports, we each have to take an academic unit in an area of study outside our specialism. On a whim, and because I can’t draw for shit, I chose computer science and programming. Twice a week I have to hightail it over the main road, which runs through the centre of our campus, and make my way into the computer lab, populated with actual PCs―not the sleek, sexy Apple Macs which cluster in the sound-labs―and nerds.

Hrishi is a nerd, through and through. Or at least, I thought he was until he glared at me all hard and cold, when all I’d wanted to do was relax into the afterglow of the best orgasm I’ve ever had. The boy knows fucking everything about computers, and sometimes when he, his friends, and the lecturer get going, I only understand about one word in ten. He speaks to me like I’m thick when I can’t instantly tell the difference between Java and Python and part of me hates that he’s lodged himself so firmly into my late night fantasies.

I can’t help it. I’m a guy after all and when I’m in bed, there’s only one place my hands roam to. The established social order says hair and beauty girls like rock stars and handsome men who look like they stepped out of GQ magazine. Some of them are inexplicably into the lecturers though, and not even the young ones. Guys with guitars are either into chicks with way too much make up on or they like those odd girls who wear too much eye liner and want to grow up to be children’s librarians. The goths all like each other and I swear no one can keep track of who’s with whom, not even them most of the time. Everyone seems to assume that nerds and geeks, the real ones, not the fake ones who are into computer games and Japanese anime, will stick to themselves and not get laid until we all graduate to university or get out into the real world. But there’s something about Hrishi, with his too-long hair and smart shirts, his prim and proper exterior, his quick sharp-witted retorts, and the way he chews his lower lip when he concentrates.

And I know, he’s been watching me too.

The first few weeks, I felt sure I was imagining it. Every time I’d glance up, he’d look away really fast, like he was guilty of something. He turns away before I have time to smile, but more than a dozen times our eyes have met for the briefest of moments. The boy has lightning reflexes. He chose a sports unit in athletics too, though I’ve never actually seen him run, and I’ve caught him glancing at me in the changing rooms. He’s not been imagining the swell of my cock when he looks, because whenever I find his eyes on my body, I get instantly hard as a damn rock. I’ve spent a fair number of PE sessions jogging around the track with an iron bar stuffed into my shorts.

I’ve watched other far more popular guys than myself mess him around, slap his books out of his hands, push him roughly out of the way, jeer and laugh as he or his friends line up in the cafeteria or cross the parking lot on the way to the bus stop. I’ve never done anything about it, but then, I’ve never seen him try and defend himself. The boy just gets up and walks away and it makes me want to punch him myself, just to get a reaction.

Well, this morning I certainly got a reaction. I still can’t fathom if it’s a good one or not.

I pack my flute away and stow it in my locker. Grabbing my books I head for the most academic of my music lessons – Soundboard - and don my headphones for an hour of noise distortion and EQ balancing. After twenty minutes, Leon wanders in late and slumps into the seat next to me. There’s a slightly confusing moment when he yanks out my jack, plugs his splitter in and then the noise is back. I turn down the volume and move one earpiece aside as Leon half slumps against my shoulder.

“Kill me...”

“Seriously dude? It’s a Tuesday!” I can’t believe Leon has been up all night, again.

“I’m not hung over,” he groans, flipping his hood up. It’s not an action that makes me inclined to believe him. “I locked myself out of the damn house. My parents are away in shitting Aruba or somewhere so I had to sleep in my car.”

“All weekend?”

Leon simply shrugs.

“Fucking hell dude.” I keep my voice low; our lecturers are cool and everything, but it’s still best not to be caught openly swearing in lessons. “Why didn’t you just come round? You know you could’ve kipped at mine.”

Leon gives me his best smile, the one that has groupies-to-be fawning over his every move. He might be a mess now, but in his element, Leon has the most incredible stage presence I’ve ever seen; even I want to fuck him when he turns on the charm. And we’ve known each other since we were fourteen.

“Didn’t want to interrupt you and Debbie now, did I?”

“Leon! You know that ain’t even a thing.”

“Why not? You two looked all cosy and cute after the gig. I did see her getting in your car.”

“I drove her home,” I sigh.

“Uh-huh.” Leon doesn’t believe me, and I jab him in the arm.

“Really. Other people can go more than a day without trying to shag the next thing which moves y’know.”

“Jerk. I have standards.”

“Sure, a pulse.”

“And tits,” Leon reminds me. Apparently, five minutes is all he needs to recover from his weekend of poor sleep. “You and Debbie would be a good fit. She’s cute and knows her way around a drum kit. And you know all the heavy-metal girls get really fucking kinky when the lights go down….”

“Do your damn work, Leon.”

“Uh huh, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”


	2. 2

A bunch of us are arguing heatedly over the correct walking bass line for classic rock and roll as we exit the main auditorium. About the only music classes we have to leave our building for are big technical lectures. I’ve filled ten pages with notes about the stylistic fingerprints of rock and roll versus metal and indie rock, and made myself a pretty long listening list which will keep me going for at least ten hours. Leon spins around, walking backwards and holding forth about his unshakeable conviction that _The Beach Boys_ are the greatest band of all time. A split second before it happens, I see who he’s going to walk into.

Leon is hardly a big guy, but he’s wiry and strong and he always gesticulates like a madman when he gets onto something he’s passionate about. Catching Hrishi around the head as he moves, he continues stepping back knocking the skinny nerd to the floor. Tripping backward over him Leon ends up on his arse. A bunch of the guys’ laugh, like it’s funny, but Leon turns as he gets up and snaps at Hrishi.

“Fucking look where you’re going, stupid fucking fairy.” He scowls angrily, but Hrishi simply looks up at me with this expression, which says ‘ _well go on then, do something.’_ I can’t even get a single syllable out of my mouth, but Leon has noticed. “Take your damn faggot lust and shove it some place where it’s welcome.” He rolls his eyes, and I think if we weren’t in the man college building he would spit. “C’mon, let’s get back to the common room and have a jam.”

I want to punch him, and he’s my oldest friend; or stop, say something, push Leon off his feet and tell him he’s wrong. I want to go back and pick Hrishi’s books up off the floor, wrap an arm around him, kiss him, apologise for being friends with a sweet, funny guy who can also be a total arsehole when the mood strikes him. But, I don’t do any of these things and simply follow along with my friends. We are not quite out of the building when one of the other guys frowns at Leon.

“Dude, was that really necessary?”

Leon shrugs it off, like he didn’t just verbally abuse another student, and I am painfully aware that Hrishi is watching my back as the automatic doors close behind us.

*

We very rarely go the main cafeteria because the music room has its own little snack and sandwich shop in the common room. I love that we have our own space. There’s always someone picking at a guitar or re-stringing a violin, easy conversations about music and lyrics as we laze around, feeling far more important and talented than we are. Leon and the guys grab their lunch items and take over three dilapidated leather sofas in one corner. I stand with a sandwich in my hand and Leon raises an eyebrow at me.

“Marty? You wanna go get the guitars and we’ll have ourselves a little riff off?”

“I’ll join you.” Ben, whose defining feature is his shock of bright ginger hair and an Ibanez bass with a custom paint job, springs to his feet. He’s a good bassist and a nice guy, but I feel sort of sick.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” I try and smile at Leon, but I can’t quite manage it. “Gonna end up in detention if I keep failing my computing assignments.” I feel fractionally better for not lying to my best friend: the standard of my work is so poor, sometimes I think Hrishi might be right to assume I’m a dumb jerk with a guitar instead of a brain.

I am dreading what Hrishi will say to me in the computer lab. Part of me thinks he won’t say anything at all. He probably won’t even be there, because fuck knows I wouldn’t want to have a conversation with someone who’d just stood by and let Leon say those things. It kills me this isn’t the first time I’ve seen people pick on him. He’s little, and nerdy: an easy target. But the way he looked at me in the shower, the way he sneers and speaks like I’m an idiot for even showing up and breathing, and the way he demanded my orgasm as though somehow it belonged to him. None of these things fit with the image of the geeky little Indian boy with his computer science books and shiny leather shoes.

And it makes me so turned on.

The computer lab isn’t busy, but it’s not deserted either and I spot Hrishi straight away. He sees me coming over the top of his monitor, and for a moment, his dark glare sends my confidence into my shoes. Then he looks away and ducks behind his computer screen. By the time I’ve come around to the station next to him, I swear he’s blushing. I sit down heavily, but Hrishi won’t look at me.

“So….” I begin, not really sure what I want to say to him.

“You’re an arsehole,” he states shortly in a tone so abrupt I stare at him with my mouth open. “You always sneak up on guys and sexually harass them in the showers?”

“No.”

“So when were you planning on telling me you liked guys?” He pauses for my answer, then frowns. “C’mon Marty, I haven’t got all day. Some of us actually work around here.”

That’s a low blow. “Oh fuck you!” My voice is low enough that we’re not overheard, but my tone is all too clear. “Not all of us get to be class-A nerds with books instead of friends.” I take a breath, trying to calm down. “I wasn’t actually. This morning wasn’t exactly what you’d call planned.”

“No shit.”

I clench my fist under the table. Hrishi is being the cocky argumentative bastard I see so often in class, putting other people down for not having their shit together. I can’t help it, but I’m getting hard under the table.

“I’m not out.”

“Obviously.” Hrishi shoots me a look which tells me without words, he has not even remotely forgotten or overlooked my reaction to everything Leon said. “You’re a pitiful excuse for a decent human being.”

I make the snap decision that the only way I’m going to get out of this conversation alive is to fight just as hard as he is.

“And you can’t defend yourself because of what, breaking the stereotype?”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“Which doesn’t stop you from talking back,” I snap. “Clearly, you’ve no problem with saying shit to me.”

Hrishi looks unhappy with this fact and folds his arms over his narrow chest. He stares at his computer screen, his eyes half closed. The boy has unfairly long eyelashes. He chews his lower lip in thought, and I want him fresh all over again. Under the desk, I move my leg so it’s touching his; the heat seeps through our clothes.

“I don’t like you,” he says eventually.

“OK.”

“You left a damn _property of_ stamp on my neck y’know.”

I know. I can just see the edge of the bruise under the collar of his shirt. I wish I’d bitten him higher up, so he couldn’t hide it so easily. I wonder what his other virgin-nerd friends said when they saw it. I want to say something bold and cocky, and probably quite stupid, but Hrishi turns to me in his seat with a grin.

“I’ll be leaving you one soon enough.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, because the big, strong, rock star is the only one allowed to dictate sexual encounters? Fuck you, Marty.”

This conversation is not going at all like I thought it would.

“Maybe I’ll fuck you instead,” I growl, hoping to wipe the smirk from his face.

“And maybe if you prove yourself to be anything other than a total waste of plasma, I might let you.” Hrishi turns back to his screen and pulls up a window full of complicated looking code, I don’t recognise. After a moment, his eyes slide back to me. “You can fuck off now Marty, I’ve got to get this natural language parser building by the end of the day.”

Feeling like I’ve been dismissed, I get up, and leave the room without glancing back.

*

My week is filled with false starts, bad timing, and frustration. Suddenly, Hrishi seems to be everywhere I look until I’m faintly terrified of leaving the music building, the last safe haven on campus where I know he has no excuse to be. Every time he crosses my path, I’m tense because the sight of him brings back every texture of his skin in the shower, and the way I touched his cock when he came. It was hands down the most intimate experience of my life, but whenever Hrishi glares at me, I somehow feel greasy; I can tell he knows his effect on me. The sudden swelling of my dick in his presence, which used to be some kind of illicit joy, is now bordering on painful and hard to hide. By the time Friday comes around, I’m quite seriously considering locking myself in the bathrooms and jerking off just to get through the rest of the day.

Leon comes to find me in the common room after our independent music practice session, guitar still slung over his shoulder. I have my acoustic sunset-cherry Hummingbird over my knees, tuning the strings even though I know it’s perfectly on pitch.

“Dude! Where were you this morning? We all went into town for breakfast.” Leon flicks a plectrum at me. I swipe it away in annoyance. “Seriously, Marty, where the hell have you been?”

“Sod off Leon.” I feel like a total dick, because Leon and I have been mates for a long time, but I don’t think I can explain myself to him at all. I know what he means because I’ve been present, but my head’s not been in the music. We had band practice yesterday and I strummed my way through every song, but there was no heart in it. Leon glances at the notebook between my feet, the one I use for the sole purpose of lyric scribbles, and sighs.

“You’ve been thinking too hard again, haven’t you?” He nudges my lyrics with the toe of his shoe as he sits cross-legged in front of me. Leon knows better than to look, because lyrics I give to him for us to work on are always copied out of the book. “What’s up, Marty?”

I pluck the strings of the Hummingbird, and rub the rosewood fingerboard without seeing it.

“Why did you say those things to Hrishi?”

“Who?”

I grit my teeth.

“Hrishi, the Indian kid you knocked over on Monday.”

“Fuck, Marty.” Leon grins at me, and irrationally I want to hit him. “You expect me to remember something I did on Monday?”

“You’re a dick, Leon.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

I blanch, frozen in place, looking down at Leon sitting at my feet. Terror shoots through my body and kills the semi I’ve been plagued with for the last two hours since I saw Hrishi on the way from my car into the music building. Leon knows, he must, and my heart thuds erratically for a moment then stops altogether for what seems like an age. And Leon is still looking at me. I must have fucked up, said something or done something to give myself away, and I wish I could just crawl into a hole somewhere and rid myself of the shame of lying to my best friend for years. Leon on the other hand, just grins, pulls a sheet of paper from his bag and lays it over my guitar.

“New piece for you to work your magic on. It’s hot and punchy, but you know how awful I am arranging lyrics. Sort it out for me, and we’ll practice on Saturday, yeah? I’ll come to yours.”

“Er…” I glance down at the scrawl of chord progressions and riffs. Leon is a great front man, but the boy writes music about as well as I write analytic computer programmes. “Sure... I gotta go to computing.”

“Ergh…!” Leon pulls himself up as I stand. We sling our guitars into matching shoulder positions, and I stow Leon’s music inside the cover of my lyric book. “I’ll walk with you. I’m supposed to go to the office and see someone about security for the radio booth. Some jerk lost the key or something, so we’re getting new locks.”

The college radio booth is the pride and joy of the music department. We run it, almost totally independent from the staff, and the various DJs get to share music with the public areas of the college in all of the major buildings as well as the local long-wave radio. I operate the late shift on a Wednesday, but the radio station has been down all week for maintenance and the installation of a new mixing board. It’s safe to say, we’ve all missed it.

Leon and I manage to talk normally as we cross the road and enter the secondary mixed building, which houses the computer labs, library, and several dozen teaching classes, offices, and small seminar rooms. And of course, Hrishi is crossing the main foyer as we enter. Leon spots him, pauses, and arches an eyebrow at me.

“Him?” his voice is stage-loud in the general quiet. It’s always loud in the music department, but without the ambient background of the radio booth playing, it seems nearly silent here. “What did I do to the nerd?”

I glance helplessly at Leon, then turn to Hrishi wanting to explain, though I’ve no idea what to say to him, only to see him duck and turn away hurrying off down the corridor. The computer lab is in the other direction.

“Leon!”

“What?”

I am already following the route Hrishi took as Leon calls after me. “What did I say?”

He's waiting for me around the corner before the door to the computer lab. With his arms folded over his chest and one foot propped back against the wall, he suddenly no longer looks like the geeky little kid Leon obviously sees him as. Hrishi jerks his chin at me as I stop in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not enough." His tone is sharp and flinty, like asphalt grazing the skin.

I don't know what to say. I'm angry at him for not standing up for himself, for pretending to be a weak and wimpy nerd when surely that must be a façade, because I doubt anyone else in his social circle of nerds would be able to grip my hair and tell me to come in such a commanding tone. I open my mouth to rebuff him, but I don't get a chance because Hrishi yanks the front of my t-shirt and pulls me wordlessly into the room across the hall. It's a tiny seminar classroom maybe big enough for ten people, and it’s dark with the blinds drawn. When the door shuts behind us, I can only make out Hrishi's shape because he's practically standing on my toes.

"Hrishi?"

"Shut up," he grunts. His other hand runs up the back of my head until he finds the longer length of my hair, and he pulls me down to his mouth.

Startled, I don't move for a long moment as his lips meet mine with force. My mouth is open and within moments, his tongue has invaded me, warm, wet and strong. When I hear a gentle groan, I'm surprised to find it's me who's made it. Hrishi kisses like a freight-train, but it doesn’t take me long to recover, wrapping my arms around the small of his back, bringing our chest's together, and kissing him back with a week's worth of pent up frustration and rampant teenage horniness. Only when I feel him desperately seeking air, do I release his lips and we both stand there in the dark, sucking down oxygen like nectar.

I lick my lips. Hrishi tastes somehow sweet and savoury all at the same time and I want to kiss him again just so I can examine the flavour further. Apparently, I'm not the only one feeling this way. Within seconds, I'm the one being pressed back into the door behind us as Hrishi ravages my mouth. The force of him is overwhelming, and I slump against the closed door allowing my feet to slide out from under me a little bringing our lips to about the same height. Hrishi steps into the space between my feet and we kiss for what feels like hours. The next time we break for air, I manage to locate my voice box.

"I thought you didn’t like me."

"I don't. Shut up." He bites his lip in a manner I think is adorable, and I reach out to rub my thumb over the smooth line of his jaw. He grabs my hand, yanks my arm, shoves the sleeve of my jacket aside, and bites down hard on the inside of my bicep. I grunt in pain and surprise, clench my jaw and resist the desire to tear him off as he marks my skin. His teeth and lips are efficient. And my skin is much, much paler than his own: when he leans back with a smug smile, the hickey on my arm stands out like a fresh brand.

"Jesus H Christ!" I examine the bruise with a scowl. "Fuck's sake Hrishi, how am I supposed to hide that from my parents?"

"Wear long sleeves; I don't care." Hrishi shrugs, but he looks smug. I suddenly realise how my expression in the shower might have been perceived: that slightly presumptuous, predatory sort of look I see in the mirror when I jerk off and think about Hrishi naked.

I'm still examining my new hickey when he takes my chin once more and we kiss again. This kiss is all warm, wet, and open, slower, softer, and I want to melt against him. The noise of students moving in the hallway distracts me from the desire to turn into a happy puddle.

"We're going to be late," I mutter into the tiny space between our lips. "I thought you didn't like me."

Hrishi steps back, and I wonder when he crossed the intangible line between soft and pliable, and hard edged, mean, but downright sexy.

"I don't." He grins as me as he speaks. "But you are kind of hot."

"Only kind of hot?" I arch an eyebrow at him knowingly. I might not be the best looking guy in sixth form, but I'm also under no illusions about how I look. Guitars, sleeveless t-shirts, leather jackets, and straight leg jeans suit me very well: I'm in a band, and I look it.

"Fuck, you're a cocky bastard." Hrishi looks amused by this fact. He reaches out and squeezes my erection through my jeans. I love and hate the whimper of need, which issues from my throat. "Have you been thinking about me, Marty?"

"Y-yes." We've been kissing, pressed up against each other for a while, but I know what he means: I've thought of basically nothing else for a week.

Hrishi leans in close, and my fingers trail in the small of his back. His hand is still pressed over the conspicuous bulge of my erection wedged between our bodies.

"Well, keep thinking." He breaks away, yanks open the door without a backward glance, then pauses framed by the light. "Don't be too late to class."

*

By the time I arrive in the computer science lab, our lecturer is in full flow, and I slink towards my preferred workstation feeling overly visible. I still have my guitar slung over one shoulder, I left my jacket in the common room, and even though I have my arm pressed to my side, all I can think about is the bruise Hrishi's mouth has left there. Usually, I sit by myself. No one else in the entire college apparently chose programming as their extra non-specialist subject. I sort of understand why now, so it's just me by myself with a buffer of free computers and then the nerds. When we're asked to work on group assignments, you can see the resentment in their eyes, as they feel forced to pick up my slack.

But today, Hrishi is sat at the computer next to mine and I'm not sure what to make of his sudden move from across the room.

There's no time to talk to him because our teacher pauses and Hrishi interjects with a ready smile.

"But we've only really just gotten to the point where machine learning has become accurate enough that the mistakes are getting interesting. Even two years ago, there wasn't anything smart enough to pick a human face out from a monkey, though television would like us to think that there was."

"Accuracy is improving all the time," one of his other buzz-cut-hair-and-glasses friends chips in, "the more data analysed, the better the systems are going to get. It's just a case of exposure."

The attention in the room shifts back to Hrishi.

"Unless the program is learning wrong." His gloating smile gives him away. "These systems are so at risk from even tiny amounts of adversarial input. It's really very easy."

"Do I want to know how you know that?" asks the lecturer warily.

"Probably not," Hrishi admits.

"Well...." There is a long drawn out silence. "Except for Mr Sethi, who is playing with fire and possible arrest, the rest of us are going to take a look at a couple of machine learning algorithms and see if we can't build a few vision processing systems of our own." There is a noise of pleasure from everyone except me. "From scratch, no base code allowed." Now there is a moan of disappointment from everyone except the still smug looking Hrishi. "There is a visual learning library of images I'd like you to use. Sorry boys and girls, no porn in this one. "Hrishi," his tone drops as he comes to stand near us, "since you're ahead of the game, I wonder if you could assist our friend here." He sounds like he wanted to say 'interloper'. "It would be nice if he could hand in something completed this side of Reading Week."

"Oh, sir...." Hrishi sounds like he was just asked to clean out the toilets in the changing room, but the lecturer has moved on. He rolls his eyes as he looks at me. “Just great. I suppose I can kiss my ninety-eight percent average goodbye.”

“Fuck you, Hrishi.”

“Not yet.” His tone is so level; I almost miss his words before he snaps at me. “You can’t tell a deep neutral network from a damn calculator, Marty. You expect me to be thrilled working with you?”

I’m pissed.

“Hey, I read enough ACM articles to follow what you’re saying.” …most of the time…some of the time. “And, I know you’ve been crafting some poisonous inputs if what you told sir was true.”

Hrishi shrugs, a liquid motion, which instantly makes me want to strip him naked just so I can see every single line of muscle and smooth skin. It’s infuriating to be so close to him, and yet know he has the advantage. This is Hrishi’s home turf, and I’m not as smart as him.

“We’re going to need to put some hours into this at the weekend. I’ll come to yours tomorrow. Give.” Hrishi doesn’t wait for my permission, but takes my phone from where it sticks out of my pocket. He jabs the buttons as though angry at them. “Text me your address.” He’s already calling up some reading and a sample program on my computer screen. “Read that. See you.”

Hrishi walks away, laptop already in hand, to discuss something with the other nerds who look at me like I’m litter in the street. I’m left wondering how much of what happened was a ruse just to give me his phone number.


	3. 3

I sleep badly overnight Friday to Saturday, unable to let my mind settle on any one decent fantasy so I can bring myself sexual closure, if nothing else. I send Hrishi my address, and he simply sends a text saying he’d be there at eleven. Nothing else, no sign off, no explanation, and certainly no row of little x’s and o’s. I spend the morning cleaning up my room as much as I can without arousing suspicion, clear the browsing history on my computer – because I certainly don’t want Hrishi finding out I’ve been trolling porn sites searching unsuccessfully for guys who look like him – and make my bed with fresh sheets. I have no idea what Hrishi is planning, but I’ve already decided I’m not going to let him control me this time. This is my house, my room, and my territory. I plug my Telecaster into my twenty-watt silver jubilee Marshall amp, and I’m riffing along the chords Leon scrawled when my phone interrupts me.

“And how the fuck do I get into this fortress you call a house?”

Hrishi doesn’t waste time on pleasantries, that’s for sure.

“Jeez, where are you? Look, don’t ring the main gates. I’ll buzz you in, head to the left and I’ll meet you.”

I do as promised, and catch Hrishi around the arm just as he’s about to pass my door. When my parents built the east wing, I thought it strange I had my own door, but now I barely use the main foyer of the house; it’s only there so mum and dad can make a proper first impression on people and awe them with their apparently perfect family home. I yank him inside, close the outer door and gesture for him to follow me.

“It’s this way.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re sneaking me in ‘round the back way?”

Apparently, I’m not sneaking in around his back way for a while. I scowl in response.

“It’s not like anyone is in, anyway. I just can’t be bothered to reset the alarms in the main house just so you can use the damn front door.” Neither of my parents’ are home, but every time the main buzzer is pressed, it records video of the event, and I don’t fancy trying to explain Hrishi with his overly long hair and perfectly pressed Capri pants to my father later on.

“Oh, poor little rich white boy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not today.”

I glare at him. I’m so sick of this game of hot-cold cat and mouse. I jab his shoulder as he enters my room, kick the door shut, and pull his skinny frame around to face me.

“Why the hell are you even here Hrishi? If you’re so desperate to prove you’re better than me, then you could just let me fail. Then you wouldn’t have to bother spending time with me.”

“Stop being a whiny bitch, Marty. I found an excuse to get us together, because god forbid someone from your pack of emotionally immature friends sees you associating with the likes of me.” He pauses long enough to look around my room, and I know he’s taking in the many instruments, the scale of an area big enough to contain a king size bed and a large corner sofa without feeling crowded, and the door which opens out to my own bathroom. “After all, I’m just some nerd, right?”

“I never said you were a nerd.” Not when he could hear me anyway. “I’m not exactly the coolest guy on campus myself.”

“You’re a fucking guitarist!” I don’t know if Hrishi means to, but the awed tone in his voice gives me an instant shot of confidence.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Sure, whatever.” Hrishi rolls his eyes, and begins to move around my room. I’ve left the white Telecaster on the bed, the amp humming softly. I reach over to turn it off, and he steps casually past me. “Fuck, I forget there are really people this rich. It’s like being on a television set.” He glances over at me, one eyebrow arched quizzically. “I expect you’ll tell me this isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either, huh?”

It really isn’t, but I don’t bother to explain. He’s not far enough away to be out of my reach as I sit on a low wooden stool, so I simply reach out, grab him hard around the bicep and pull him into my lap. He ends up straddling my thighs. My automatic reaction is to spread my knees and force him to sit in my lap. I run my other hand up under his hair until I find the back of his skull and bring his lips to mine. The first kiss is nothing special, just a soft press of lips, and then I open him up with my tongue. Suddenly we’re both eating each other up, kissing hard, each trying to invade without ceding territory. His hands are locked around my neck, and I let go of his arm to smooth my fingers down his spine. The motion makes him curve against me, and I can feel the heat of his crotch through our clothes.

When I tug his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, he gasps – unexpected, shocked, suddenly sounding innocent – and it makes me feel like a fucking god. I walk my fingertips up the furrow of his lower back, smoothing over his flesh, and I make him moan again. Like playing a guitar, there have to be places on his body which will produce even sweeter noises than just plucking at the strings. I let my hands drift lower and squeeze his arse appreciatively.

“I’m not doing that with you.” Hrishi breaks our extended kiss to gaze at me levelly, his straight, dark brows drawn low.

I groan. I’m hard as a fucking rock, and I can tell Hrishi isn’t far behind.

“Then what the hell are we doing? I can’t fucking work you out, Hrishi.” I frown at his expression as I realise what I’m reading in his face. “And you like that you confuse the shit outta me, don’t you?”

He takes my hands and presses them over the heat of his crotch with a smug grin. Small, ultra-smart, and geeky he might be, but Hrishi knows exactly what his body wants and he’s not shy about getting it. I’m so turned on I would probably come right now if he told me to. I start opening his fly, hoping the shaking of my fingers isn’t too noticeable.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Marty.” How Hrishi can keep his voice steady and level whilst I place tentative fingers against the head of his cotton covered cock is beyond me. “Not if you’re not willing to call out your so-called friend’s on their Neolithic attitudes.”

“Seriously?” I kind of want to put his cock in my mouth, but I’m not sure about asking. Instead I slide his underwear down at the front. He’s not embarrassed now, lifts his hips slightly, and I scoop his cock and velvet soft, oven warm balls into my palm. “Is that what you want to talk about right now?”

“Well look who found his sense of entitlement,” Hrishi grins and hauls my shirt off over my head. “Oh fuck, Marty….”

“What?”

“I forgot how beautiful you are.” The compliment makes me freeze with surprise and uncertainty, and Hrishi growls, rocking his hips into my hand. “If it helps, I’ll swear at you again instead.” He presses two fingers against the bruise on my arm with a grin. I wince, sucking air in between my teeth. “Oh, poor baby.”

“I’m gonna have to tell people I got in a fight or something,” I mutter. I wrap my fingers around the hard length of Hrishi’s cock and take the time to really look at him properly when there isn’t water streaming into my eyes. He is compact and beautiful, flawless brown skin with only a light dusting of hairs around his cock and balls. He must shave his chest, I push his shirt up, pulling the buttons loose roughly, but there’s no hint of stubble there or on his jaw. The boy is a wet dream made flesh.

“If that’s the excuse you’re going for….” Hrishi lets the sentence trail into nothing, leans forwards, kisses me, and takes my dick in hand as his lips trail lower. There’s no way this position is going to work for a blowjob, not with me on the receiving end anyhow, but I don’t know what he’s aiming for. I find out ten seconds later when he nips at my nipple, then bites down really hard on the side of my chest. I cry out, it hurts way worse than the one on my arm and is much more unexpected, but Hrishi does his damage and leans back with a smile. He jacks my cock in time with my uneven breathing, keeping me very firmly in the moment.

“Fuck, I think you got the muscle.” I know I’m sporting a very red and obvious bite mark, and he looks deeply pleased by this. I try and keep my voice steady as I ask, “so what are we doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious.” He punctuates his words with a squeeze of my erection. I’ve been hard for half an hour or more, and I’m leaking pre over his hand. Glancing down, the sight of the two of us semi-naked, and inches away from each other hikes the tension up a notch; we look like pornography.

“Hrishi.” My voice is half warning, I’m really close, but also demanding. I’m going to do my best not to give into him again, not when I’ve no idea what the hell he’s thinking.

“I’m going to get you off, and if you promise to work really hard on your machine learning homework, I’ll let you blow me afterwards.”

“Oh fuck...”

Hrishi laughs breathlessly, and it’s nice to know I’m at least having some effect to ruin his composure.

“I’m going to start harassing you sexually, y’know.”

“Not if I get to you first,” I growl. “Shit, Hrishi… I’m gonna…!” I don’t even make it to the end of the sentence before I spasm in his hand, shooting over my own chest, the end of my orgasm dripping over Hrishi’s knuckles as I throb in a wave of aftershocks which make it hard to breathe. I just about have the presence of mind to wrap a hand around the back of his hips to stop him from sliding off my lap as he sits back, raises his hand to his lips, and licks my cum from his skin. My pupils dilate so fast the room gets noticeably brighter. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

I have the pleasure of seeing him look uncertain for a second; it turns out we’re both unused to compliments.

“You’re really pretty, Hrishi.” I feel emboldened by his blush, and the fact he still has the evidence of my orgasm on his tongue. I run my hands up his back, scooting him more firmly into my lap. “And you have such smooth skin… and really long lashes.”

“You’re weird.” Hrishi’s brows furrow, and he bites his lower lip, glancing up at me through his aforementioned incredible lashes. Girls would kill for them. “But you taste kind of wonderful, so I’ll forgive you.”

I grab his wrist, and he owns the motion, placing his knuckles against my lips so I can taste myself on his skin. Salty and kind of musky, underlain with the sweet, cleanness of Hrishi’s own flavour. He smells I tiny bit like soap, a little like sweat, the faintest hint of some cologne or other reminding me of snowy mountains and big clear skies, but mostly spicy and sweet, as though he could be edible.

Hrishi glances around my room at my selection of guitars and keyboards.

“So… you sing as well, Marty?”

“Yeah,” I grin, knowing where this is headed.

“Does that means you’re good with your mouth?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” I feel mean as I pick him up, stand, and then dump him unceremoniously on the floor, turning away to my computer waiting on the desk. God, I want to touch him, but I know I’m losing control of the situation, and that scares me down to my toes. Worse still, I can feel a little wordless voice in my head which thinks it would be really hot to just give in and submit to anything Hrishi wants. I bend to glance at the computer screen, and Hrishi wraps surprisingly strong fingers around my wrist and hauls me around.

“Get on your knees,” he commands, his voice full of sharp points and raw desire. I comply wordlessly, shaking with mixed excitement and a slight dread that I’m going to be shit at this. My only experience is gleaned from watching porn online, and I doubt the guys in those videos designed them to be used an instructional teaching tools. “Marty….” Hrishi doesn’t ask me anything, it’s not a question, but I know what he wants me to do. _Suck my cock_ , his eyes say it all. His length is hard and quivering, poking from his open Capri pants. I wrap a hand around each hip, gulp nervously, and take the flared head of his dick into my mouth. “Good boy.”

He’s hotter than I thought a body could be, and he tastes like he smells, clean and spicy. The feeling of him inside my mouth isn’t as strange as I thought it would be, and as I start to slide down his shaft, I am silently fascinated by the combined textures of the super soft and smooth skin over the incredible rigid hardness of the muscles underneath. I can’t get right down to the base, because my throat is complaining, so I pull off again until just the head remains trapped between my lips, and I lick experimentally at his slit.

“Oh shit, do that again!” Hrishi’s voice is gravelly with need, and one hand wraps around the back of my head, but doesn’t press me further. I obey him, I feel helpless to do otherwise, and I’m rewarded with another groan, and the thrust of his hips. Hrishi plays with my now tousled fringe, and I glance up at him, my lips still firmly wrapped around his cock. “OK, that’s definitely the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His hips push forwards, and I yield to the pressure as he slides deeper into my mouth before pulling back. “You alright Marty?”

He knows, somehow, that I have no experience. We’re in a soft, gentle moment where I know, if I let go and sat back, he would let me. But I don’t want him too. I blink once, and squeeze the back of his thigh, my fingers brushing right up under his butt. Hrishi takes this as permission to continue, and he holds the back of my head and neck firmly, the fingers of his other hand woven into my fringe, using the pressure on my hair to keep me still. I keep watching him as he beings to fuck my face with ever-quicker thrusts of his narrow hips. I don’t think I looked at him properly in the showers; too busy concentrating on his cock, now in my mouth, to take in the rest of him. We might have athletics together, but I’ve never managed to catch sight of him getting changed; he’s too careful. His skin is darker than mine, smoother too, and the muscles of his abdomen are less pronounced. There’s not an ounce of spare flesh on him though, and his hip bones stand out like knives; but his shoulders are rounded, so maybe lifting computers and amps have similar effects on the body, because he’s certainly no weakling. I want to explore his torso with my tongue, delve into the soft pit of his navel, kiss and bite my way across his abdomen, and see if his nipples are as sensitive as mine appear to be. But I can’t do anything, because Hrishi holds me in place as the perfectly proportioned length of his dick slides between my lips, filling me with his scent and the sweet-salt taste of his precum.

I can feel his pulse in my mouth, and for some reason that turns me on way more than I thought it would. I can already feel my boner pressing up into my belly, but I don’t dare touch myself. Both my hands are wrapped around Hrishi’s thighs so hard I wonder if I might leave him with bruises. He lasts longer than I thought he would, but I seriously can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing. His hips thrust really hard, then he falters, his heartbeat irregular, his fingers clutch so painfully tight in my hair I think there’s a small risk I might become bald, and he meets my eyes as he comes. His eyes are so dark that might be black, and he growls, a feral animal sound, his hair falling in his face as he curls over my head. He pants, lips damp and parted, as I swallow his cum. Every time my mouth contracts around his length, he shudders visibly.

“Holy cow, Marty….”

It is with reluctance I finally release him from my lips. I think I might have just found a new favourite hobby. Hrishi looks a bit wobbly, and I don’t let go of his thighs.

“Hrishi? You OK?”

He gives in to gravity, and practically falls on top of me. We end up in a sprawl on my floor, half dressed and kissing. I run my fingers through his hair, and he moans.

“That’s a good noise,” I mutter, almost to myself, and massage his scalp again. Hrishi is as warm and pliant in my arms as a sleepy puppy. “So what now?”

“I’m going to help you not fail at computer science,” he pants between kisses, “once I’ve located my legs again, anyway.”

“I didn’t mean _now_. I meant, you know, generally.” Broaching the subject of _the future_ and _feelings_ seems like a dangerous thing to do this close to an orgasm. “Hrishi? Do you even like me?”

“As a person?” He chews his lip for a moment. “No.” I know my disappointment must show on my face, but clearly Hrishi doesn’t care. “You’re really fucking hot, and you are _really good_ with your mouth, that’s for damn sure, but you’re a coward.”

“What?” I can hardly believe we’re still lying together, my fingers still moving in Hrishi’s silky soft hair, his lips only inches away. “Fuck off.”

“Why aren’t you out?” He pauses long enough to actually let me answer, but I don’t. “Seriously, Marty. You’re in a band. It’s not like we live in small-town Midwest America, and rock and roll is not exactly known as a bastion of sexual purity.”

“Why is it any of your business?”

“It’s not.” Hrishi extracts himself from my arms and we both get up, tucking ourselves back inside our clothes. He grabs my phone from where it’s fallen on the floor, and begins to type. “You can call me if you want help with the assignment for class, and I meant what I said earlier.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna want to kiss you at college. Other stuff too.”

“Right….” I’m worried. Hrishi sounds dangerous, like I’d cut myself on him if we touched right now.

“Here’s the deal, Marty.” I wonder when I became a trading commodity. “You need to prove that you’re better than the homophobic company you keep, and then maybe we’ll see where this goes. There’s no way I’m going to let you fuck me unless you turn out to be worth more than your reputation.”

“I….” I have no idea what to say to him, and I don’t get much chance. Hrishi presses my phone back into my hand, balances on tip toes and grabs my crotch, and kisses me hard. I open up to him, I can’t not, and he bites hard on my lip before he lets me go again. I can taste blood and I put my hand to my mouth as Hrishi grins. “Fucking seriously?”

“Yep. See you on Monday, Marty.”

I stare after him as he pulls on his shoes and vanishes through my bedroom door. I hear the outer door close and I half hope he won’t be able to find the button for the gate and will need to come back again. He doesn’t.

I’m still standing there, tonguing my bloodied lip, when my phone rings, and I buzz Leon in without even answering it. He shows up with an easy grin, a guitar, and a take-away coffee held aloft.

“Marty? Dude?” His knuckles on my shoulder bring me back to myself with a jolt. “C’mon dude, you ready to work on the new song, or what?”

“Yeah.” I’ve never felt more confused in my whole life. “Sure.”


	4. 4

All through Soundboard I’m jittery, then in our music theory and style seminar I can’t focus on anything at all, keep picking at the strap of my guitar bag, and Leon has to elbow me hard in the ribs twice when I’m asked a direct question and fail to answer. Monday’s are the worst, because it’s when our timetable allows us the afternoon off, and we go do sport. I usually look forward to a Monday afternoon off from using my brain, and it might sound silly, but I get a lot of good songs half written in my head while pounding the asphalt. It’s nice not having to think too hard.

Of course, that option is totally out, because the first thing I see upon entering the sports complex is Hrishi. He bids goodbye to his uber-nerd friends, most of whom hang out in the back of the yoga studio because it’s the closest they’re ever going to get to a girl for many, many years, and heads towards the changing rooms. I jog to catch him up.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Marty.” Hrishi glances quickly around, yanks me towards him by the front of my shirt and kisses me hard. “I’m thinking about you naked.”

“Yeah?” Oh shit, I’m not sure how I’m going to hide a full on boner from everyone while I change.

“Marty! Put the dweeb down and move your butt!” Jerome is waiting for me by the changing room door, drums sticks still in hand. I’ve not moved more than two paces when he grins and arches an eyebrow at me. “Don’t tease the gay-kid man, it’s mean. You know he’ll cry like a sissy when he finds out he can’t have you.”

My fist clenches at my side, and I glance back guiltily at Hrishi. He glares at me, his dark eyes full of fire, and I know this is kind of situation he was talking about before. I have to do something, say something, to raise myself up in his esteem, but I don’t want to give myself away either.

I thump Jerome softly in the chest when I get close enough, and frown at him.

“Lay off, man, leave him alone.”

“Gettin’ defensive of your boyfriend, are you, Marty?” Jerome teases loudly.

“Shut up, Jer.”

“Touchy! You know he watches you right? It’s cruel of you to lead him on.”

“He’s helping me with my computing assignment. Come on, let’s hit the asphalt.” I clap Jerome on the shoulder much harder than necessary. “You can land face first as always.”

“Bastard.”

“Fucktard.”

“Overly talented misanthrope,” Jerome counters.

“Ooh, big words.”

We head into the changing rooms, and I spend the next hour feeling like utter shit, because Hrishi never shows up for the lesson. It’s not like when he’s there he actually does anything, but my eyes are constantly drawn to the pack of lazy girls and guys too bored to try and run, because Hrishi’s long haired, slender shape should be among them, but it’s not.

I jog seamlessly, but I hate myself.

*

I spend a long time in the shower, trying not the think too hard, and wishing I could’ve done something constructive while I ran, instead of replaying the look in Hrishi’s eyes over and over again. Already I know I’ve failed to impress, because I didn’t say enough. I wanted to use my fist to remove that smirk from Jerome features, even though I quite like Jerome, he’s a good drummer, and I’m not a naturally violent person. I don’t understand this effect Hrishi is having over me.

I exit the showers, towel wrapped around my waist, shaking water droplets from my hair, in time to wave half-heartedly to the last of the other guys as they leave. Alone, I use my towel to dry my hair more thoroughly as I pick through my clothes. Just as I realise my boxers are inexplicably missing, I hear a scrape, and turn to see Hrishi wedge a bench across the door, shutting us in together.

“Looking for something?” he asks with a smirk.

“Where’s my underwear?”

“You don’t need them.”

“I don’t?” My cock twitches in excitement. Hrishi looks dangerous and feral, and I really shouldn’t be so turned on, but I am. I can feel myself quivering just with his proximity and the tone of his voice.

“No. I don’t want you wearing them anymore. They get in the way.”

Hrishi moves across the room towards me, still smiling in a sort of dangerous manner. His fingers pluck at the hem of his neatly pressed polo shirt, and the sight of an inch of his smooth brown skin makes my erection spring into complete stiffness. This is hugely dangerous, there are still people around, and though the door is wedged, it’s not locked, and I’m standing completely naked in the changing rooms with a very obvious boner.

“I missed watching you run today.” Hrishi’s voice is very nearly a purr. “You going to make it up to me?”

“Y-y-yes.” I never stutter, but I don’t seem to have a great deal of control over all my faculties right now. I ache to touch him, even though it’s only been an hour or so since we kissed. I can feel the heat from his body radiating against my skin, and I’m certain I’m not the only one aroused.

“Touch yourself.”

“Huh?”

“Marty.” Hrishi says my name like it might be a sexy profanity, and I do as he says, wrapping my fingers around my length, feeling the wetness of my precum the moment I start to stroke up and down the shaft. Hrishi is standing really close, though we’re not touching, and he keeps his eyes on my face as I jack myself off on his instruction. “Good boy,” he mutters, not for the first time, and my ears are filled with the wet sound of his lips moving against each other. I wonder what it would be like to have his mouth around me. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

His slap is light, but shocking, and I blink fast, fixing my eyes back on his own. His jaw tells me he’s tense too.

“Be more specific, Marty.”

“I’m thinking about you sucking me off.” I thought I’d be embarrassed to say that out loud, but there’s no energy left to feel shame in between holding his chocolate brown gaze and moving me hand in fast swipes over the head of my cock, spreading my own lubrication over the shaft so I can find yet more pleasure. My fist moves in a blur.

“Is that so?” Hrishi uses my shoulder to support his weight as he balances himself to whisper in my ear. His voice is moist and warm, and I groan with the sensation. “Imagining my lips around your cock?” Oh fuck. “Wanting me on my knees as you slide in and out of me?” I’m not going to last with that image on constant reply in my imagination. “Wishing you could come in my mouth?” I groan, turn my face to find his, my free hand roaming over my chest to catch him. I want the taste of his lips. “Not yet, Marty.”

I whine in frustration and pleasure, wanting to come, and Hrishi takes the noise as his signal to lean forward. There is the faintest brush of his lips on mine, then he pushes my head back, fixes his teeth on the point of my collar bone and bites down hard enough to make me scream. I’m still jerking off, it’s not like I could stop, and the pain gets lost in the pleasure shooting through my nerve endings, and I suddenly don’t mind that Hrishi is pulling up a new bruise and chewing my skin raw. He releases me with a chuckle, and glances down between us.

“You like that, don’t you?” I can’t even answer him. “Well haven’t you turned out to be the secret masochist, Marty….” I groan, every muscle tense with the need to come and come hard. My knees are shaking, and I know I’m going to collapse as soon as it’s over. “You’re so fucking hot.” I don’t even have the spare energy to smile at his compliment. “Good boy.” Hrishi steps back, folds his arms, and grins at me. “Come, now.”

“Fuck!” The moment he speaks I am powerless to resist, and I end up spurting over my hand and the floor, my cum thicker than it usually is, and pooling in my fist. I slump down onto the bench beside me as my legs give up with the idea of supporting my weight.

“That’s really hot.” Hrishi steps between my knees, dips the tip of one finger in the cum on my skin, making my shiver and jump, and then paints it over my lips as I pant for oxygen. “See you tomorrow, Marty.”

“Hey, wait.”

Hrishi tucks his shirt back into his chinos, and moves towards the door.

“I don’t get a kiss?” I ask.

“What are you, a girl? Fuck off.” Hrishi doesn’t spare me another glance, and shoves the bench aside with a loud screech as he leaves.

I want to crawl into bed and sleep, or maybe curl up into a ball and cry for reasons I can’t even assemble into words in my head, but I’m exposed, and I have no idea how I would explain this situation to anyone walking in, so I get up, support myself on the wall, and go to take another shower.

*

Everyone notices the new hickey on my neck, how could they not when it’s right there at the base of my throat, and it’s far too warm to get away with wearing a scarf. I shrug, refusing to explain, and by lunch at least the entire music department thinks I have a new and sexually adventurous girlfriend. Leon keeps strumming intros to song with sexually explicit lyrics, and we both get glared at when the senior pianist lecturer passes through our common room during a particularly loud moment when Leon is singing to me that he wants to ‘get his rocks off’. I hate lying to my friends, so I don’t say anything, and I make it all the way through my next seminar without saying anything too stupid. Crossing the main road to computing makes me strangely nervous.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Hrishi is waiting for me outside the classroom, but we’re the only ones there. Even our lecturer hasn’t shown up yet. He touches the bruise on my neck. “Looks good on you.”

“Well everyone knows I’m someone’s,” I mutter. I glance around the deserted hallway guiltily then give into temptation. I hate that Hrishi is the one with all the control. I started this thing after all. I pull him to me with a hand on each shoulder and kiss him hard. He opens for my tongue, and the sensation of kissing him is so all consuming for a moment I feel I won’t mind if someone comes around the corner and discovers us. When we break apart both of us are grinning.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

“Just that?”

“Other stuff too,” I admit. I’m still holding him firm, but we’ve not got time or privacy enough for all the things I want to do to him, so I kiss him again, trying to remember every flavour of his mouth. I don’t know what he ate for lunch, but it was delicious.

The sound of feet breaks our kiss, but I don’t have time to step back before our lecturer rounds the corner. He glares, I glance between Hrishi and I at my fist in his shirt, and work out what he thinks is going on just before he starts shouting.

“What the hell is going on here?” He strides forward as I let go and step back. “How dare you pick on another student like that? Did he hurt you?” Hrishi doesn’t even get a chance to reply before our lecturer has rounded on me again, visibly enraged. “Just because he’s smarter than you, you think you can rough him up and no one will care? What, because you’re a cool kid?”

“Oi, sir…”

“Don’t you talk back to me boy! I know all about lads like you. I’ll have you in detention until the end of term, and think yourself lucky you aren’t getting suspended. Get out of my classroom.”

I would point out I’m not even in his classroom, but I’m too busy staring at Hrishi. He doesn’t meet my eyes, and I want to shout at him. He could explain this situation away, or at least make it so I don’t lose my lunch hour for the next four weeks, but he says nothing, and I shoulder my guitar, and stalk angrily away.

It’s the end of the day when my phone beeps at me, and I pull it out to find a text from Hrishi asking me to meet him in the computer lab. I’m not going back over the road for love nor money, because if I run into the teacher from computer science again, I might just deck him. I text him back with my location, and five minutes later, there is a soft knock on the door of the radio studio. Through the one-way glass I can see him waiting with his hands in his pockets, looking unhappy and slightly guilty. I’m sort of tempted to make him wait, but if someone sees him, then there will be way more explaining to do. I queue up another long song to play automatically and open the door.

“Come in.”

“I never even knew this place was here,” Hrishi sighs, “I had to ask for directions.”

“This isn’t my normal slot, I’m just covering for someone.” I latch the door behind him and settle myself back into the big leather DJ chair. Behind the mixing desk is a place I feel confident, comfortable, and I grit my teeth as I fade the in-booth volume so we can talk. “I got an email earlier, two weeks of detention.”

“Could be worse.”

“Yeah, he could have fucking hauled me over hot coals and had my parents in for beating up another student. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh, because you always speak up when required?” Hrishi snaps. “Fuck you, Marty.”

“You first,” I snarl. I grab his wrist and haul his meagre weight into my lap. The chair complains and Hrishi squeaks in surprise, but I don’t care. I wrap my fingers around his jaw and kiss him hard, our teeth clack painfully, but Hrishi doesn’t pull back, and within a heartbeat we’re both trying to invade the other. My hands roam over his chest, and he has my shirt up under my armpits, shifting his weight without breaking the contact of our lips to settle more comfortably in my lap. I groan as his slim fingers brush over my nipples, and I can feel his smile.

“You like that?” he asks when we break for air. I’ve woven my fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp where it meets the back of his neck. “This is good. I don’t like it when you’re too soft.”

“So it’s better when we fight?” I shift slightly in the chair, reach past Hrishi and slip another disc into the CD player. Normally I put a lot more effort into radio sessions, even if I’m just covering, but I don’t normally have a really hot guy in my lap. “What are we doing here, Hrishi?”

“Making out?” he offers, leaning in to kiss me again. I take his tongue in my mouth, allowing him to plunder me effectively before he pulls back, touching the bruise on my throat. “I forget how pale you are. Where is your detention going to be?”

“Probably sorting through books in the library. You know I have work I should be doing instead right? The guys are going to be mad if I miss band practice all the time.”

“Your friends are dicks.”

“C’mon, Hrishi, you can’t keep saying that. You don’t know them like I do.”

“Yeah, because they’d never risk associating themselves with the gay, nerdy, Indian kid, would they?”

“I associate with you,” I remind him.

“You’re a pervert who attacked me in the shower.” He grins, like he’s happy about it. “I’m betting you guys don’t have that much in common.”

“Look, this ‘deal’ of yours.” I wrap my hands around his butt, pressing him forwards into my lap. I’m slightly nervous one of us will knock the switches on the sound desk and end up broadcasting our conversation to the rest of the college. “I’ll keep Leon off your back, but you’ve got to stick up for yourself too. I know you’re not some fainting flower.”

“Too fucking right.”

“So you don’t need me rushing in to save you. Grow a pair and show them who’s the boss.”

Hrishi looks like he’s going to argue for a moment, but decides against it, and grinds against my lap instead.

“Like how I show you who’s the boss?” He arches an eyebrow suggestively, and rolls the hard nub of my nipple between his fingers. I gasp. “Sensitive, huh? You’re too easy, Marty.”

“Marty?” We both freeze. Leon is on the other side of the door, covering his end of the day yawn with one hand. “You still sulking in there?”

I cover Hrishi’s yelp of surprise with one hand. And put a finger to my lips with an earnest expression.

“Can he see us?” Hrishi whispers in my ear.

“No.”

“Fuck, I didn’t realise it was a one way mirror.” Hrishi’s lips move over my jaw as he speaks softly. I assume the booth is soundproof, right?”

“Not fully.”

“We’ll have to be quiet then.” Hrishi’s fingers are already inside my clothes, fishing out my cock through the open fly of my jeans. I followed his instructions and went commando this morning. “Good boy.”

I bite my lip to keep from groaning. Leon is still waiting there, wanting me to answer him, but Hrishi has undone his own fly, and brought our very different erections together in one hand.

“Jerome told me what happened yesterday.”

I have to remind myself Leon isn’t talking about what happened in the changing rooms afterwards, and it feels incredibly strange to listen to my oldest friend whilst Hrishi works us over together in my lap.

“I know the little geek is a pain in the arse, but you could have just told him to shove it. What did he do, impinge your honour or something?”

Hrishi holds my gaze steady as he jacks us off, and the oddness of the situation almost makes me want to laugh.

“Just tell him to fuck himself next time. At least he won’t need to help you with your damn computer stuff any more. Told you, you should have switched to photography with me; it’s a doss.”

Hrishi is panting in my ear. I’m so turned on by the texture of his skin alongside my own, his hands around us both, the heat spreading through my thighs and abdomen from his weight balanced on top of me. I grip the plump mounds of his arse, my fingers finding his skin and holding on tight.

“You’re beautiful when you come, Marty.” Hrishi whispers against my lips. I don’t need any other encouragement, and he swallows my groan with a kiss as I come in his skilled hands. Hrishi is only a moment behind me, and I feel the hot wetness of his orgasm splash onto my bare chest.

“Marty? Dude, detention sucks, but you’ll get over it. I’ll meet you later for practice, OK?”

We both turn to watch him walk away. After a minute of heavy breathing, Hrishi giggles in an entirely unexpected and girlish manner.

“That was fucking close,” I pant.

“That was hot, and funny.” He gets up, and reassembles his perfectly put together appearance. “The rock star has a heart, who’d have guessed?”

“Piss off, Hrishi.”

“Uh-huh. See you, Marty. Thanks.”

I grin as he kisses me again, grabs his bag and makes to leave.

“I’m thinking about your arse,” I call after him with a smirk. Hrishi gives me the finger through the one-way mirror before vanishing out of sight.


	5. 5

My week is peppered with kisses, hurried frantic orgasms, lies, and detention. The library is sparsely populated by first years and girls with no social lives - or social lives which revolve around adoring the characters of various books and Japanese comics. I hate spending my time there when I could be playing music and hanging out with my friends, but the upside is that none of my friends visit the library and Hrishi comes to find me in the stacks. We kiss between shelves of redundant sports science textbooks and references books for everything from cold weather camping to the history of cylinder seals, trying to be as noiseless as possible. Hrishi tells me I’m a good kisser and grinds against my crotch before he walks away, always leaving the time to drag by after he’s gone. I catch up with Leon after our lecture on Thursday and apologise for bailing on him and the band. He’s terse, tells me I’m a shit friend and a worse guitarist, but he doesn’t mean it, and by the time we’re back in the common room we’re both plucking on our strings and ready to make some noise. With what feels like half the music department, wind section included, we end up having a totally cool impromptu jam session. Leon and I sing _Highway to Hell_ and _Good Vibrations_ at the top of our lungs with more backup singers and harmonies than I can count.

Hrishi and I don’t talk during computer science, but I have to put my phone on silent as he texts me under the cover of the desk. The boy is obscene, and I damn sure hope no one ever steals my phone, because our sexting will make their toes curl. I make sure to hang around where I can’t be seen after the lesson and after our lecturer leaves, Hrishi pulls us both into an empty seminar room where we make out for the longest time and I’m dizzy for lack of oxygen. We’re both so on edge, it takes only the work of a moment for him to get me on my knees, and I suck him off enthusiastically for three minutes before he grabs my hair hard, and comes in my mouth. Hrishi strokes me to completion, and paints my lips with my cum before we kiss. Only after he leaves, do I realise that neither of us said a word the entire time.

The whole time I’m home, I avoid my parents as much as possible. At breakfast on Friday morning my mother asks me how things are going, as though she genuinely cares, and I impress her with the news of our latest gig and my high scores in my most recent technical music essay on style and influence within a genre. I chose classic rock, which gets my father’s nod of approval as he passes through the kitchen like a ghost. I don’t miss the acidic glare my mother shoots him, and I know she’s pissed that he invaded her conversation with me. Both of my parents like to feel they should be the one to take all the credit for my creative and academic skills. She asks about my love life, and I sink into my hoodie with embarrassment when she invites me to ‘feel free’ to bring a nice girl home. I tell her I haven’t time for girls avoid mentioning Hrishi or my failing grades in computer science, make my excuses as fast as possible and vanish from the house.

I’m early to college, and though a part of me wonders if going to the sports centre would result in me finding Hrishi naked under the shower again, I end up in the main building on autopilot. Very few people are around, and I feel conspicuous with my Fender strapped to my back and my Hummingbird acoustic in my hand

“Hey, Marty.” Bayley and Christina, already in uniform with their hair and makeup perfect and crisp, are standing by the double doors which lead into hair and beauty. “Early in the morning for a rock star isn’t it?”

I blush at the compliment, because if Leon was standing next to me, I don’t know if either of them would look twice at my shabby appearance.

“You wanna come with us, Marty?” Christina’s smile looks somehow dangerous, but fun.

“Um… I should, er….”

“He’s gone all shy again,” Bayley says with a flick of her hair. “I think you’re failing to style your hair deliberately just to get our attention.” She reaches out and grabs my free hand. “C’mon, we’ll sort you out, but we want a song too.”

They know all my weak spots, and I can’t resist an opportunity to play, especially to people who might listen. I rifle through my bag for my lyric book, pulling out of it a slightly cleaned up photocopy of something I’ve been working on in the wee hours when I can’t sleep. I set it on the reception counter where I can see it, and tune the Hummingbird with a twist of the wrist.

I’m two lines into the first verse when I realise my audience is bigger than it first appeared. The larger numbers bolster my confidence as I draw out every note and sing about longing and desire, imagining the sections where the drums will add rhythm, the bass will round out the sound, and hearing the faster and more vicious way Leon will sing it in my head. There’s applause when I finish, and I can’t help but take a little bow, my fringe falling in my eyes, and grin to myself.

“You’re gonna be famous someday, Marty.” Christina’s smile is warm and open, and for a moment, I wish I could just blurt out everything I’ve been holding secret for so long. Even Leon has no idea why I’m always the first of our friends to arrive at college, and the last to go home after every gig, party, and jam session.

“I’m not that good,” I say eventually.

“False modesty is so unattractive,” Bayley chirps, and takes my guitar from my hand. “I’m just going to borrow this.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry big guy, she’ll bring it back.” Christina steers me to a swivel chair without a mirror in front of it, and I’m instantly suspicious. “Don’t you trust us?”

“Less far than I can throw you. I can tell you’re plotting something.”

She doesn’t reply, just grins, and gets to work fussing over me.

*

I feel incredibly noticeable as I make my way to the music department. I keep wanting to touch my hair, but Bayley was very strict that I wasn’t to fiddle and that I looked really hot. I do trust her, and Christina, and I can’t help but grin as I catch sight of my reflection on my way up the stairs to the common room. Everyone is there already because classes will start soon. I draw instant attention when Leon and Jerome look up see me from where they sit bent over an mp3 player, sharing headphones.

“Well fuck me sideways!” Leon shouts, because he can’t hear himself over the music, causing everyone to look up then swivel to stare at me. “Marty! You’ve gone and done it now!”

I feel the blush creep across my cheeks as Leon bounds over the common room like an overgrown puppy and wraps an arm around my neck.

“You’re gonna be stealin’ all the girls.” His smirk is all I need to feel good about myself right now. “It matches your Epi.”

I can’t help but finger a strand of my new sunburst-flame-red fringe. It looks awesome. From across the common room, I see Debbie smiling at me in a way I recognise. Hrishi wears that look when we’re together. Just the thought of him makes my heart beat faster.

Leon sees where I’m looking, and brings our heads close together, mock whispering for effect. “So you switching sides on us now, Marty?”

I panic, looking everywhere but in his eyes. What did I do to fuck up? Or, has Bayley written ‘homo’ in hair dye across my forehead?

“The ultra-kinky girls into metal music don’t do it for you anymore, that it? Spending your time flirting with the hair and beauty babes rather than hanging out with us?”

“Leon….” I want to roll my eyes at his teasing, but I can’t, because it isn’t funny.

“You’d better not be trying to take over the band too.”

“Like I’d want to, you’re such a glory hound, Leon. C’mon, let’s work on the new song.”

“Seriously, you need to go talk to Debbie. She’s totally into you.” Leon jabs me in the shoulder, then runs a hand through his own hair. “Fuck knows why, I’m totally the hottest.”

“That might be the gayest thing you’ve ever said,” I quip.

I don’t know what it is that makes me turn around. There is a stillness maybe, the ceasing of movement as an intruder enters our space, a place reserved and populated solely with those of us who would rather make music than hold conversation. I turn to find Hrishi standing on the top step, staring at me, a mix of surprise, desire, and anger written across his features. I know he heard me. We both hear what Leon says next.

“Aww, Marty, your hair is like a flame attracting all the gay butterflies!”

I wish Hrishi was a mind reader, that he could see how scared I am of my friends finding out, that he knew how much I hate Leon’s words and that his dismissive, mocking tone makes me want to punch him. But Hrishi’s not a mind reader, and he turns and flees the music department without a word. I want to chase after him, every instinct I have tells me to catch him up and soothe the hurt I saw in his dark eyes, but I can’t. Everyone is here, people are watching, and classes are about to start.

Leon chuckles as he rubs the unstyled back of my hair with one hand. The gesture feels suddenly possessive and I duck away.

“What’s with that guy following you around? You need to put him out of his misery, Marty.” The bell sounds. “C’mon, let’s go to the lecture.”

I’ve never felt less like going to class in my entire life. The idea of concentrating on anything at all, let alone an in-depth lecture on the subtleties of different recording techniques and their sonic qualities, fills me with a weird kind of dread. But that’s nothing compared to the loathing building in my stomach every time I think about Hrishi. Leon finds us our usual seats, Jerome settles in on his other side, and to my surprise, Debbie grabs herself the chair next to me. I shuffle awkwardly, not wanting to invade her space, but when I turn, she’s smiling broadly.

“I like your new hair.”

“Thanks, Christina and Bayley did it for me.” I figure that polite conversation will be enough, the lecture will start soon.

“Oh, I know them. Christina does mine these days. I hate dying it myself.” Debbie flicks a multi-toned purple strand of her own super-long hair. “I’d love to come jam with you guys sometime, you know, outside of the common room when I actually have my drums?” My phone buzzes at me, the lecturer is up on the stage, shuffling notes and setting up the presentation. “What do you think, Marty?”

“Um...” I pull out my phone, knowing that electronic devices are frowned upon, and if I’m not careful, the lecturer will call me out in front of the entire musical student body. “Whatever. Maybe.” There’s a text from Hrishi.

_Meet me in the big common room. Now._

A second text follows a minute later.

_Now Marty. I fucking mean it._

I grab my bag from where it’s fallen at my feet and make to stand.

“Dude?” Jerome arches an eyebrow at my sudden movement.

“Marty, sit your punk-ass down.” Leon grabs the back of my jacket, and I have to twist out of his grip.

“Sorry Debbie, I gotta run.”

“The lecture’s about to start!” All three hiss at me in something like unison.

“I don’t care.”

And I don’t. I can feel people watching as I trip down eight steps with my bag and jacket trailing behind me, my newly dyed hair like a beacon attracting attention. It’s not far to the main common room, a place I never go, but already my phone is buzzing with Leon’s frantic and unread texts.

Hrishi is leaning against the radiator, glaring at his phone, his brows drawn low and his eyes dark. His gaze jerks up at me before I can say anything. He grabs me by the wrist and tugs me along a dimly lit corridor with a dozen twists and turns that I’ve never been down before. The air smells of grease, metal, and burnt things.

“Where the fuck are we?”

“Blacksmithing.” Hrishi pushes open a door and then we’re standing in a small room containing nothing but what appears to be a weird square fireplace, a large corrugated flue, and a lot of bits of strange looking metal. Hrishi slams the door behind us. “What the fuck happened, Marty?”

“Seriously, where are we?”

Hrishi grits his teeth.

“You’re not the only one who plays outside his comfort zone, Marty. I chose blacksmithing as my extra curricular.”

“Didn’t think you were the type. Ow!” I rub my abdomen because Hrishi has just punched me surprisingly hard. “Fuck, Hrishi….”

“What the fuck was that earlier?” Hrishi pushes my chest with both hands, and I drop my bag. “Marty! Why did you say that?”

“I….” I have no idea, but I doubt that answer is going to be any good.

“Fuck it.” Hrishi grabs me by my shirt and I gather him up in my arms for a kiss. He tastes amazing, his teeth are super slick under my tongue, and I moan into his mouth as he pulls the whole of himself against me. He yanks my shirt up to feel my chest, and my hands sneak down to his butt. I’m panting when we break apart. “You’re still a terrible excuse for a person, Marty, but damn you kiss well.”

My lips are almost back on his when Hrishi’s words punch through my haze of lust.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I get that you’re not out to your friends,” Hrishi speaks between gritted teeth, “but you can’t mock being gay, and perpetuate an unfair stereotype, and then expect me to be happy about it.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” I’m shouting now too, “other than run off like a scared little girl, which you’re so good at.”

“Oh, fuck you, Marty!” Hrishi pushes me off him and folds his arms over his chest decisively. “You’re still a damn coward.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I snap. Rage makes me strong, and I grab hold of Hrishi as I step forward, lifting him from the floor so he needs to balance on tiptoes and grope for the support of the forge wall behind us. His face is inches away from my own.

“It’s not good enough,” he growls.

I don’t answer him, I’m too busy kissing my way down the slender brown column of his throat, and Hrishi’s fingers are in my hair, ruining my carefully styled look. I’m tense, too tense, the fear of discovery mixing with the strange wonder of being stared at, the vibrating need I can feel from the boy in my arms, and the lingering dissatisfaction of the conversation I was forced to have with my mother this morning nearly overwhelm me. I know I can’t get through a whole day feeling this torn up, Hrishi’s here, we’re somewhere private, and he’s the only cure for sexual frustration I know.

I’m about to sink to my knees in front of him, but his fingers push on my chest, flicking at my nipples, and I gasp as he bites my shoulder briefly and pushes me back against the wall. I never knew my chest was so sensitive, but as his lips graze each hard nub in turn, it’s like a shortcut directly to my cock. I get a small warning, a press of his fingers over the spot on my pec where he so effectively claimed me, now faded and gone, and then he bites down again, grabbing the muscle and skin with his teeth, sucking and biting until my fingers in his hair are trying to pull him off and it’s only the scent and heat of him so close keeping my erection from flagging.

“Fuck…” I groan when he lets me go, “did you have to?”

“Shut up, Marty, or I won’t be so nice to you.”

I glance down at the raised red-purple bruise marring my otherwise pale skin.

“This is you being nice?”

“You’re not bleeding are you?” Hrishi’s dark eyes flick up to me, and he grins in a possessive manner I find incredibly arousing. “Just try not to be so fucking loud. Okay, rock star?”

I’m about to ask him what he means, but I can’t. His fingers open my fly with speedy dexterity and he drops to his knees in the same moment. I can’t tear my eyes away, his lips and my cock in such close vicinity, because it’s been the subject of my late night and middle of day fantasies for weeks. Hrishi says something I don’t catch, his voice a low rumble of pleasure, and then he looks up at me and holds my gaze as he takes the length of my erection into his mouth. He doesn’t close his eyes until his nose is brushing the skin of my abdomen and I’ve never seen anything more erotic in my life. The heat, the tight, undulating wetness of his mouth; the hard edge of his teeth, right there and waiting as though this might be somehow dangerous; the stroke of his tongue underneath the head: everything builds me up until I’m teetering on the edge of my orgasm. I’m hardly able to breathe for fear of crashing over the top and losing myself into the pleasure.

Then Hrishi looks at me, and purrs.

“Oh shit! Hrishi, if you don’t want a mouthful you’d better-!” I don’t make it to the end of my warning, and Hrishi digs his fingernails painfully into my hips as I explode inside the hot confines of his mouth. He drinks me down like it’s the most natural thing in the world, each swallow causing twitches and aftershocks to shake my body. It takes me a while to find my voice, by which time Hrishi is back on his feet, grinning like he’s won a prize.

“You’re amazing.” He blushes quickly, easily embarrassed for someone who just had his lips around my cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful, and I love your hair.” I run my fingers across the back of his skull, and he practically melts against my hand with a happy noise. “And I love that sound you make too.”

“Careful, Marty, you’re starting to sound like a guy with feelings.”

“Would that be so terrible?” I ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Fuck off, Marty. You’d better go sneak back into your lecture. I’m coming ‘round yours tomorrow to pick your arse up out of the failing grade column.”

I reach for his crotch, and the very obvious ridge of his hard penis in his chinos, but Hrishi steps away.

“What about you?”

“I can take care of myself y’know.”

“But-?”

“Sod off, rock star.” Hrishi’s tone brooks no argument, but then he pauses and almost smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It takes me a while to find my way back to the main common room, and I’ve missed so much of my lecture there’s no point showing up just to get harangued. I head to the music department, grab my flute, and find music flowing itself out through my fingers and lips. I’m going to need to write some of this down at some point, but for now, I’m happy just to be a conduit and let myself be played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	6. 6

Leon doesn’t understand why I don’t want to take a road trip with him and Jerome to see this awesome band we’ve all been crushing on musically for ages.

“Fuck it, Marty, you’re the only other one I trust to drive my car.”

“Oh, so you want to get wasted.” I frown at him; Leon has never stayed sober through an entire gig in his life. “I can’t drive your car home for you.” I’m sick of being that guy, but I don’t tell him that. “I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

I wish for the umpteenth time I could just plead off with a ‘family thing’, but even Leon knows how thin that lie is in my household; though he has no idea why.

“Because I’m failing shitting computing, that’s why. If I don’t pass this unit, the college will call my parents’ and then you know I won’t be getting out of the fucking house ever again.” My parents’ allowance of my freedom of movement hinges on my ability to get good grades and not bother them with the responsibility of actually being parents. It’s only when one of them fucks up or feels monumentally guilty that I get to spend money on more instruments: I have a lot of instruments. “You’ll have to go without me.”

“So do it on Sunday, with a hangover and tinnitus.” Leon grins, clearly already planning the shape of his weekend. “C’mon man, the band needs you.”

“I can’t. I have a damn tutor coming over.” I’ve told enough lies lately not to add to this one. It makes me feel like the shittiest friend ever. “You’ll have to crow about it all on Monday.”

“Fuck… really? Damn man.” Leon claps me on the shoulder and gives me a rueful sort of smile. “Well, if you’re finished grovelling to your tutor, come by Sunday and hang out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leon’s hand on the back of my neck makes me feel loved somehow. “Don’t drive drunk, OK? Be careful, Leon.”

“An’ leave you pining after me?” Leon’s cocky smile and the way he grabs his own crotch breaks the moment between us which threatened to tip over into being too soft and sensitive for two straight guys who are just mates. “Not likely. Bye, Marty! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I watch him pull away squealing his tyres in the driveway, which I know my parents will hate. Depending on how pissed off they are with each other, I might not have to explain at all. I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk through the house by the main doors.

Our house looks like something out of Town and Country magazine, but I haven’t felt at home here in years. I don’t remember, even as a little kid, the cacophonous reception hall with its polished floors and expensive formal flower arrangements being used, except to welcome people in for special events and parties my parents were throwing for other rich and generally unhappy couples. The central table holds a select few poised and coiffured family photographs and one of me after I graduated secondary school. It was just before I cut my hair, and I look a lot younger, even though it was not quite two years ago. I cross the hallway as silently as I can, and I’m about to skirt through the kitchen, when I hear the sounds of my parents. They’re shouting at each other, a full-blown row so loud I can hardly understand what it’s about. When there’s the sound of breaking crockery, I know that one of them has been a little too careless with their sexual indiscretions. I don’t want to hang around and find out who.

My parents won’t be aware that I’ve heard them yelling at the top of their lungs, I’m too good at being silent and going unnoticed. Long gone are the days when my father would watch his language around me; far away are the times my mother would control herself instead of reeling off every mistake he’s ever made in twenty years every time they fight. Neither of them comes to reassure me afterwards anymore, I’m no longer a child, but I’m still scared of their anger. Terrible words follow me down the hall, and it’s a relief when I can shut the door to the east wing behind me blocking out the specifics of their incandescent rage. I’m _so_ happy my room has been sound proofed.

When Hrishi buzzes my phone twenty minutes later, I meet him at the side door. His smile is tight, and he looks unhappy.

“What’s the matter?” I ask as I follow him into my room.

Hrishi turns to face me properly, and frowns.

“Is this a thing we’re doing now? Telling each other all our woes?”

“I….” I can see the irritation in his eyes, something has happened and it has nothing to do with me. I don’t want to be in the middle of another fight, not that kind anyway, so I drop it. “Never the fuck mind. Are you helping me with this shitty programming assignment or what?”

“The assignment’s not shitty, you just don’t understand it.” Hrishi smirks.

“You think I’m thick just because I play guitar.”

“I haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary,” Hrishi quips quickly. “Are you going to boot up that computer of yours, or am I just here to look pretty?”

I cross to my desk and start up my super sleek MacBook Air, even though I know it’s not what he means. I have a larger, chunky looking laptop, which boots up with a whine, even though it’s also top of the line. My parents think possessions will guarantee our happiness, but I’ve known that’s not true for a long time.

“Why are you here, Hrishi?”

“Other than the obvious?” He sticks his thumbs in the front pockets of his chinos, and I stare at him openly.

Three weeks ago I wouldn’t have said Hrishi Sethi had any idea how sexy he is, but now I’m not so sure. The boy oozes sex: the too-long silky hair clashing with his ironed polo shirt and neatly pressed trousers. The way he stands all hips and shoulders, directing my attention right to his crotch, at odds with his skinny stature and meagre height. And yet he’s strong, way more muscled than I thought he’d be under his clothes, and his soft, shy smile belies the force of his tongue and his teeth. I want him badly, but I can feel a new sensation rising in the pit of my stomach, something other than lust. I want to say I like him, but I can’t, because other than how much I enjoy his body, I know nothing about him.

“Yeah, apart from that.”

“I thought I was going to help you not-fail computing.” Hrishi doesn’t wait for me to get up before his fingers are on the keyboard, and he settles his weight in my lap. I tense, every muscle rigid at the weight of him pressed against my crotch and thighs. I wrap my arms around his waist and begin to tug his shirt free from his belt. “If we start that now, we’re never going to get any coding done.”

“Fuck it, I want you,” I growl into his ear running my palm under his shirt and up his chest until I reach the base of his neck. I pull the fabric aside, intent on marking him like I did the first time, and I press my excited erection close into the cleft of his arse.

“Not yet, rock star.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Hrishi turns to look at my over his shoulder with a soft frown.

“Why not? I think it’s kind of hot. You musicians are so self-centred, but damn it works for you.”

“I am not self-centred,” I pout.

“Ooh, says the boy with a fringe dyed to match his guitar?” Hrishi twists around further until he ends up with his arms around my neck, threading his slim fingers in my hair. “That’s not incredibly narcissistic at all, Marty.” Hrishi taps an indiscernible pattern out with his fingertips down the line of my temple, along my cheekbone and across my lower lip. I shiver involuntarily. “I’ve always thought you were the hottest guy on campus y’know. I never figured you were gay.”

“Well I’m a good actor too, not just a pretty face.”

“Yeah, you’re also good with your hands.” Hrishi’s kiss is forceful enough to make me forgive his dismissive tone, if only for a moment. We break off exploring each other’s throats, and he frowns at me again. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about stuff which bothered us?” I snap back at him quickly.

“Touchy. At least I can understand your problems.”

“Fuck off!” I stand and push him off me in one motion. It’s a surprise, and Hrishi falls to the floor knocking the side of his head against my desk as he drops. I feel bad about it, but my rage powers through and I don’t bend to help him up. “You know shit-all and nothin’ about my problems, Hrishi!”

“Oh, 'cause a nerdy little guy like me would never understand all the torment a rich white boy goes through?” Hrishi vibrates visibly, he’s that pissed off. “Get down off your high horse so I can at least help you with this.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No?” Hrishi jerks his chin, as though making up for our extreme height difference. “You finally figured out machine learning algorithms by yourself, did you?”

“I am not a moron.” I only realise I’m gripping him above his elbow when he tries to pull away. I hold on harder until there’s a thread of fear colouring the anger in his eyes.

“You’re still a useless excuse for a human being, Marty.”

“And you’re a fucking broken record. You might hate me, but I know you want me.”

“Are you sure?” Hrishi speaks through gritted teeth, but I can’t work out if he’s talking to me or trying to convince himself.

My heartbeat is ultra-loud in my ears, tighter than a snare drum, deeper than a bass, and I can feel every sensation as though every nerve ending I have is stripped out and laid bare. Hrishi’s skin under my hand, the throb of his pulse under my fingers, the way the light reflects from his silky hair and sparks bright fractals in his dark eyes, the sound of his breath mixing with my own: the tension between us palpable. I want to smash that wall and take him, claim him, plant a stake in that ground and call him my own. But I can’t, because right now, I can’t stand him.

It’s a long moment, and just as I’m ready to step away, Hrishi grabs my hair and yanks me down for a kiss. This is different than it’s ever been, and we’re both moving fast, tasting desperation, and our kiss had very little to do with each other. Hrishi is taking all the pleasure he can get and so am I. He takes us both in hand, such an intimate gesture considering I would still very much like to physically wipe that smirk from his face. I break off kissing him to pull his hair, twist his face upwards and bite his neck. There’s no way he can hide this hickey without a really obvious scarf. I do as much damage as quickly as I possibly can until I’m panting, shaking and coming in his hand. I cry out when I come, helpless to still the wanton moan of pleasure escaping from my lips. Hrishi growls low and wordlessly, his seed mixing with my own.

We clean up and dress without a word, and Hrishi leaves without a backwards glance. I’m still staring blankly at my computer screen when I receive his text.

_I need u, but I don’t like u. It’s probably best if we don’t talk._

*

“Isn’t that Marty’s car?”

“Fuck, my back aches...”

“Well you shouldn’t have tried to balance on a damn barstool,” Leon sounds far too sober to have just left a gig, but I’m a tiny bit proud my best friend didn’t drive drunk. Neither did I, but I’ve been making up for it since then. “Why would Marty’s car be here?”

I’m not braced for the sudden cold which floods in from outside as Leon yanks my driver’s door open. I recoil from the chill air, curling in on myself, and the two-thirds empty bottle of bourbon I lifted from my parents’ extensive drinks cabinet. I doubt they’ll miss it; there were two more there, and I know this was the least expensive, though that’s not saying much.

“Marty? Fuckin’ hell, boy, was that full when you started?”

I nod, not really trusting myself to speak. I’ve been waiting in Leon’s driveway for an hour, and I’m drunk.

“C’mon guys, let’s get him inside. I’ll go reassure the parents that all is well, you two get him to my room.”

Leon’s house is vast, but twisty, and I’m grateful for Jerome under one arm with Aaron bringing up the rear, because I’d never be able to navigate three flights of stairs by myself. I slump in the love seat where Jerome deposits me, and I have the bottle most of the way to my lips when our drummer steals it from my fingertips.

“Hey!”

“You should take it easy, Marty.” He takes a long swig and hands the bourbon off to Aaron. “After all, we’ve gotta catch up with you now, an’ it’s already late.”

“So I’m guessing your study session was a pile o’ shite?” Leon is back, a big glass of water in one hand, a six-pack in the other. I’m not sure why our parents feel it’s socially acceptable for us to get wasted in the house, but then, they probably live in the world of plausible deniability where they don’t want to know we’ve got other booze too. “Budge up, Marty,” Leon says while shifting me along with one knee and his hand on my shoulder, “tell us all about it.”

“I’m fucking failing.” I slur my words, but only a little, and I’m still keeping half an eye on the location of the bourbon. I drain the water Leon hands me and steal the bottle back next time it comes close. I can still remember everything I said to Hrishi, and everything he spat back. My brain aches and I don’t want it too.

“Dude, that sucks.” Jerome’s voice holds real sympathy.

“It’s not like being bad at programming and shit will get you kicked out of music tech,” Leon replies, but I can see that he’s worried. We can be in bands with whoever we like in our own time, but for showcases and examination pieces, we have to stick with guys enrolled in our course. I might not be the best at everything, but I know I’m not easily replaceable either. “I thought you had a tutor coming over?”

I roll onto my side and half bury myself in the warmth of Leon’s shirt and jacket. He smells of the gig, faintly of smoke and sweat, the tang of many bodies thrashing to the music: it’s oddly comforting. Aaron and Jerome have opened beers, and start discussing the band in detail. Leon takes the bourbon and drains the rest, then glances down at me.

“Marty? You know I’ve never been good at this mind reading shit….”

“We had a fight.”

“With your tutor?” Leon is understandably confused.

“Yeah… no.”

“What’s going on, Marty?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know.”

Leon frowns down at me, and then places his hand on the back of my neck with a sigh. I’m the one used to looking after him, and whilst it’s not like I’ve never been drunk before, we both know that I’m not my usual self either.

“OK, drunk-boy, let’s put you to bed.”

Leon helps me out of my boots and I fall into his bed without a second thought. He tucks me in, which earns a soft chuckle from Aaron and I know I’ll catch hell for this some other time when I’m feeling less delicate. I drift in and out of consciousness for a while half listening to the snippets of conversation that reach me. Leon’s voice saying _‘you hear the reverb on that guitar though’_ goes around and around in my head until the words are just shapes with no meaning. I jerk awake in the pitch black to the realisation that I’d fallen asleep. Leon is passed out on the couch and Aaron and Jerome are gently snoring shapes on the floor, indistinct in the dark.

My head is pounding and I want to sleep again, but the light on my phone glows softly, blinking gently as steady as my breathing. I pick it up and wince at the brightness of the screen. It’s nearly five in the morning on a Sunday, but I have a text from Hrishi, which arrived only moments ago.

_Meet me in the showers on Monday._

I don’t need to ask how early I should be there.

*

We’re naked in the showers. It’s god damn early, and I’m surprised the building is even open. Hrishi is on his knees with my cock in his mouth, with his eyes closed against the water, his lips and tongue doing unspeakably pleasurable things to me. I groan, hands pulling at my own hair, not daring to touch the spiky young man who is making my toes curl with desire, only the cold tiled wall behind me keeping my body upright. Hrishi runs his tongue over the head of my cock and I jerk in his mouth. He makes a pleased noise, does it again, then sucks hard and swallows so that I am surrounded by his throat. The heat and intense pressure push me over the edge without warning, and I flood him with a moan. His strong slender fingers grip my arse, pinning me right where I am, and he doesn’t release me until I have finished throbbing.

He stands without a word, not using me to steady himself, balanced like a cat on the balls of his feet, and we kiss. I can taste myself in his mouth, slightly salty, a sharp tang I can’t put into words, and then he spins me around with a growl.

I am reminded of our first time together: the way I ran my fingers down his body, and the noises of pleasure he made as he looked at me. I can feel him rutting in the furrow between my cheeks, his erection hot and hard, seeking a target, and I clench against him. He reaches around and plays with my nipples, making me gasp and moan again. Hrishi bites my shoulder when he comes, but he can’t reach my neck. So, he simply sets his teeth into my deltoid and bruises me as hard as he can. I hate that I like it, and that I can’t separate the pain from the high pitched whine of pleasure which escapes me or the hot sensation of his cum painting my arse and back. He growls, licks the new hickey on my skin, and we clean up under the spray.

We kiss as we dress, and with a shiver of desire, I watch him tuck his silky soft cock away in his cute little boxer briefs. I already want him again. He can tell, too. I’m still not allowed to wear underwear, so I make sure my fly is done up really well, and we share more kisses before I shoulder my guitar and leave.

We don’t go the same way, and I won’t see him again until athletics this afternoon, but I’m already planning on sexting him later when I know he’ll be in class. Being with Hrishi will be the best part of my day, even though through our twin orgasms in the shower, neither of us said a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	7. 7

_Treat a boy right & I might blow u in the shwrs again_

I grin down at my phone, my dick twitching in my jeans. I’ve been half hard for about an hour, it’s pleasant and fun, but I don’t feel the need to do anything about it.

_If u want me 2 grope ur ass in class u only have 2 ask_

His reply is instantaneous and makes no sense.

_ehgfdrnv n frf_

I gather he’s stuffed his phone in his pocket rather abruptly, so I take my time composing another message for him to read when he opens it again.

_I know u give gd head. I wonder if ur ass is as hot as ur mouth? Find out soon?_

I don’t have to wait long for his reply, but it’s hardly everything I hoped for.

_Careful rock star. Danger lies ahead._

“Marty?” Leon repeats my name twice, and then something hits me in the head. It turns out to be the manual for his latest set of foot pedals. “Dude, wake up. We’ve been riffing for the last twenty minutes waiting for you to come up with this magic lyric. C’mon man.”

“You know he’s texting some girl, right?” Jerome is practising his double-time, bass-snare with a standard ride pattern. Boy makes it look far too easy to deal with one foot and two sticks all doing very different things. “He hasn’t been more than a foot away from that phone all day, and it’s in his hand every two minutes.”

Damn Jerome: I didn’t know he so was fucking observant. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I tear the top sheet off the scribble pad that I’ve been using to copy down lyrics from my journal. They were mostly finished anyway, and I know Leon will change a word here or there as he sings. I watch Leon look them over, his frown getting more severe with every line.

“It’s a bit fucking dark, Marty.”

Aaron takes the page and Jerome peers over his shoulder to read it too.

“You sure he’s hung up on some girl? Sounds like a pissed off kinda heart break to me.”

“I can hear you,” I remind them sharply, “and I’ll kill you.”

“I prefer you when you’re drunk,” Aaron mutters. “Jus’ get the damn guitar on and get back up here, Marty.”

I do as I’m bid, tune up my Gibson – I fancied a change from the straight tones of the Telecaster – and take my place beside Leon. When we practice, we always stand like we would on stage, and Leon sings to his empty bedroom. They’re my words as they so often are when we’re not working on set pieces for class, but Leon’s voice makes them sound angrier, dirtier, and I can barely recognise them as my own emotions. Like I knew he would, Leon changed some of the words. After we’ve run through the song twice, I take a break to jot down the new words over top of the original lyrics. What could sound like whiny teenage angst is made raw and brutal by Leon’s voice and the sharp rhythmic twang of my guitar. I say as much when we stop for water; no one drinks during practice.

“Marty, if all it took was a good voice, then there’d be a lot more rich morons out there. The lyrics rock.”

I shrug non-committedly.

“Don’t do that.” Leon knocks my shoulder with his fist. “We all know who has the talent around here.” He glances back at the song sheet. “You pissed because this is about your new girl?”

“I haven’t got a new girl.” Tensing instantly, I’m terrified I won’t be able to tread the line between hiding the truth and outright lying; and petrified of what might happen if my friends and band mates find out about my particular sexual proclivities. “Lay off.”

“Well c’mon then, call Debbie, you know she wants you.” Leon smirks, arching an eyebrow. “Unless you’re already getting a little something-something on the side you ain’t telling us about.”

“We’re your mates, Marty,” Aaron says gently.

“Yeah, it’s rude not to share.” Jerome looks quietly confident and smug, and I have to remind myself that he can’t actually read minds and has no idea that I’ve been nursing a semi throughout practice while envisioning Hrishi on his knees. I feel myself begin to blush and look away quickly. “You are!” our drummer crows loudly. “I knew it. Pay up boys!”

“Damn, Marty….”

Leon sounds shocked as he and Aaron both begin to fish around in their clothes for crumpled ten-pound notes. I can’t believe they bet on my sex life.

“You never used to be able to lie so well. Least not to me.”

I shrug at him, and we go back to practice.

Later, after helping Jerome load his drum kit into his car and waving him and Aaron off, Leon and I stand in his driveway. He leans up against the hood of my car thumbs hooked through his belt loops.

“Marty….” That’s a tone of voice too serious to belong to my best friend with his semi-permanent hang over and string of sexy semi-anonymous hook-ups. I stare at my feet not willing to meet his eyes. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me? I feel a bit shit for leading Debbie on now. I was so sure you liked her.”

“I dunno, sorry man.”

“I suppose it’s pointless to ask who?” I nod tightly. Leon looks disappointed, but not surprised. “You didn’t have to lie to me, bud, we’ve been mates since, like, forever. C’mon, Marty, you know you can tell me things.”

I nearly do. Seriously. I’m so sick of feeling like a douche and lying to his face. Right there and then, I nearly spill my guts and tell him everything, or at least, the details, that might be welcome. I want to share how I feel about Hrishi, the powerful way he is in private, but I don’t. Leon won’t have any frame of reference at all for the fact we’re still hooking up with each other and texting, but not talking to each other, and I do not want to admit to the way Hrishi has wound himself around my self-control and shredded it. I shouldn’t want him to bite my neck or pull my hair, and I certainly shouldn’t whine and moan when he does so. I’m the cool and confident rock star; he’s just some nerdy little dude, and I really shouldn’t be so into him. But I am.

I stow the Gibson in the front passenger seat, give Leon a half-hearted hug and a clap on the back, and then drive off without telling him anything at all.

*

“Hey, Marty!” Christina catches my arm as she passes and I twist to face her. I very nearly yelp, because her fingers are resting on the exact spot where I am wearing a brand new bruise. “How you doin’ there, rock star?”

“I’m fine.”

I’m way better than fine. Hrishi and I just spent ten wonderful minutes making out and rubbing against each other in the little storeroom where all the spare computer parts are kept. We were both so worked up, I barely had time to get his cock in my mouth before he came. Afterwards, he forced me to my feet; and with his hand pressed over the head of my dick, he snarled against me as I jerked myself off until I came. The whole time he held tight onto my arm and practically panted in my ear. It was fucking intense.

“We never see you anymore.” Bayley links arms with me on the other side, and suddenly I’m in the centre of a gaggle of girls with perfect hair and bright smiles. “Why don’t you come have lunch with us?”

I falter. I have no timetabled classes for the next hour and a half. Usually, I would spend the time with Leon and the other students from music department jamming along to whatever’s going on in the common room. But I know everyone’s going to want to ask about the lyrics. Once a song has become band property, it’s all about sharing, and I don’t want to have to justify myself to everybody. Leon will cover if I’m not there and make something up; it’s one of his many unquantifiable skills.

“Sure, OK.”

We head off campus over the railway footbridge and into town. In a little café, I tuck myself and my guitar into the corner of a bench seat while the girls fill in the space around me. When the waitress comes over to take our order, she gives me this look, which says very obviously that she suspects I’m attempting to sleep my way around the circle of pretty girls. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“You know, you really need to stick with one guitar,” Christina sighs at me, “we can’t keep dying your hair to match if you choose a different instrument every day.”

“Sorry.” I run my fingers through my fringe and Bayley tuts, pulls my hand away and restyles it for me with a quick twist of her fingers.

“So what have you been up to?”

“Not much, I wrote a couple of new songs for the band.” I begin to dig through my rucksack to find my wallet choosing not to mention that: I’m failing one of my classes, got ruinously drunk in my friend’s driveway a few weeks ago, and have been meeting Hrishi in various locations around the campus to kiss and get off without talking.

“When are you guys going to have a gig? You know you’re our favourite band.”

“That’s just ‘cause you all think Leon is dreamy,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. My phone buzzes as our food arrives, so I ignore the chatter for a moment and lose myself in the fact Hrishi has sent a picture instead of words.

His face isn’t in it, and I swear he must be in the computer lab because there’s too much electronic light simply to have been cast by his phone screen. His jeans are open; his cock fully hard and poking above the waistband of his boxers. I can see the edge of his fingers pulling up his shirt to reveal his abdomen, all tense and ridged. Held between his skin and his fingertips is the corner of a torn page. Hrishi’s neat handwriting is cursive and soft, his message clear.

_Missing you_ ~~_always_ ~~ _already_

I gulp. He must know I can read the word he’s crossed through, because it’s not like it’s been completely obliterated, and he could have just written a new note if he didn’t want me to see it.

“Hey, Marty?” I stuff my phone hastily back into my pocket as Christina pillows herself on my shoulder. “Who’s the black eyed boy?”

“Huh?” I gape at her.

“Sounds good. Is it going to be sort of rocky or like a ballad?” Bayley asks. “I can’t read music for shit.”

I’m confused, I know they didn’t see my phone, and even if they had, Hrishi’s dark eyes are not anywhere visible. Then my eyes focus on the fact that Bayley is holding my journal in one hand, and chicken salad speared on a fork in the other.

“Er… can I have that back?”

Bayley hands the journal over without complaint.

“It was on the table, are they lyrics for a new song? Will you play it to us?”

“Not for public consumption,” I mutter unhappily. It’s a song, which has been plaguing me since the morning after I woke up hung over and realised Hrishi’s decision not to talk to me was going to stick. It’s about him, but it’s certainly not a love song. I don’t know if hate songs are even a thing, but it’s not that either. I dislike the fact the only way I can describe my relationship with him is; _it’s complicated._

“Kinda catchy though,” Christina smiles at me as though she doesn’t know my belly is full of snakes and rats gnawing at my insides. She hums to herself and sings, “ _black eyed boy hiding from the sun, leading a war neither lost nor won_.”

Her tune is good, and although neither of them can read music, already the scrap of tune is playing over and over in my head like a track on repeat.

We eat and talk easily enough, and it’s only on the walk back that the others draw ahead and leave me keeping pace with Christina. She twirls her fingers through her hair as though thinking hard.

“What’s up?” I ask her softly.

“Oh, just y’know, crushin’ on someone.”

“Anyone I know?” I say with a smirk.

“Yeah….” Christina’s blush is very attractive, and she’s very pretty, if girls are your thing. “Trying to work out how to tell them though.”

I shrug, like it’s easy.

“If there’s someone you like, you should tell them. Gotta be better than not knowing, right?”

Christina stops, turns to me, and takes my chin between her forefinger and thumb. I think she’s about to kiss me, but she looks deadly serious.

“And how good are you at taking your own advice, Marty?”

*

“Hey.”

A small sea of worried faces greets me. I can read the instant fear in their eyes, the concern I’m here to hurt or belittle someone. One of them shoots another a look, like _‘I can’t believe we have to bother with this knuckle walker’_. I fix all my attention on the boy sitting front and centre of the little group with his laptop on his knees.

“Can I talk to you?”

Hrishi’s friends flick their eyes between him and me. He sits there so long I get impatient, grab his arm and haul him out of his seat.

“Marty!”

“Shut up and come with me.”

All his geek friends sit there like I’ve just slapped each of them across the face, and though I can hear them muttering to each other, not one tries to stand up for their friend. They sit around twiddling their thumbs acting all persecuted and it makes me feel sick. As I pull Hrishi out of sight and then into an empty lights-out seminar room, I’m sure that a dozen private blogs and forums are already chattering away with how unfair it is that they get pushed around by lowbrow musicians like me.

“What the hell, Marty?”

“Oh, so you are talking to me then?” I snap. I stop myself; take a deep breath and lean back against the wall with a sigh. I’m way too tense. Hrishi seems to sense something is up, steps between my boots and presses himself along my front. When my arms settle around his waist, it strikes me this is probably the most intimate we’ve ever been. Sure, we’ve been way more indecent, but now I rest my chin on top of his head and just inhale the clean spicy scent of his shampoo. It’s bliss. “I missed you.”

“It’s only been twelve hours.” Somehow I’m not surprised he’s been keeping count.

“Missed your voice.” I stroke his hair, running the too-long silk strands through my fingers, trying to memorize the texture in my palm. “You know we’ve not spoken in like, a month.”

“Hmm….”

“The band is playing a gig Saturday. Please come?”

“Marty?” Hrishi turns enough to look up at me, his eyes dark and hard to read. “Are you asking me out?”

“Maybe.”

“You know you can’t do that right?” Hrishi runs the tip of one finger over my lips, and I have to resist licking him. “You can’t ask me out if you want to stay in the closet.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing’s changed since the last time we spoke y’know, Marty.” Hrishi snuggles himself more firmly against my chest, and I’m drawn into the feel of his heartbeat against my abs. I sort of love that he’s so little and fits so perfectly against me. “But I don’t hate you.”

“No?”

“No.” His voice is firm, and for a moment his fingers grip hard into my ribs, almost painful but deliciously sweet too. “I don’t hate you. I’ll come to your gig.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, text me the details.” Hrishi wraps a slender hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down to his level. “We got another ten minutes until I have to go play blacksmith.” The idea of Hrishi sweating over a hot forge makes me way more turned on than it should. “You’d better start kissing me now so I’m not late.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mmm….”

Hrishi’s purr is everything my ego could want.

“Good boy.”

*

The old brewery is rammed. A Saturday night when it’s suddenly too cold to be outside despite being spring combined with it being reading week at the local uni somehow come together to give us probably the best turn out we’ve ever had. A bunch of the first years are up on stage warming everyone up, mostly running covers of classic rock and a few beefed up country songs which have plenty of people up and dancing already. The gigs are always loosely chaperoned by the guys who run Starfish, our music club and in-town indie record producers, but they’re only in their mid-twenties and they lose track of who’s supposed to be allowed to drink really quick. We’ve finished setting up our gear, so while Jerome is fiddling with his drum kit, Leon drags me out onto the floor for a drink.

“Marty, what the hell? You keep looking over your shoulder like you’re expecting your mum to walk in.”

I shoot him a hard glare.

“Don’t even joke.” I swig my beer, gritting my teeth. “I will leave you hanging on stage, make no mistake.”

“Don’t you dare.” Leon rubs the back of my head with his knuckles. “So you’re sticking with the Gibson then?”

I roll my eyes at my oldest friend and drain the rest of the bottle. Bayley talked me into dying my hair freshly for the gig, and since I’ve been writing with my other favourite guitar, my fringe is now four shades of Memphis blue. She, Christina, and the others are here somewhere, probably up front dancing to the music. But I’m looking for Hrishi. He sent me a text during sound check, ten dirty words and a promise he’d be here before the show starts. I’ve never felt this jumpy in my life.

“You’re just jealous because you’d look like a prat with blue hair Leon.”

“You wanker.”

I make a lewd gesture.

“Don’t you know it!”

“Now that’s a song we ain’t never gonna sing!” Leon backs away from me, his hands held aloft in supplication and bumps into someone. For the longest heartbeat I think it’s Hrishi. Seeing the shock of dark hair and the height makes my entire body vibrate with sudden tension. Then the figure turns, and it isn’t him, doesn’t even look like him, and I don’t know what my mind was thinking about.

“I gotta go get some air.”

“Marty! We’re on stage in like, ten minutes. You’d better fuckin’ be there.”

“You’ve got my guitar,” I remind him with a shout, “ain’t like I can run off anywhere!”

I’m almost at the door when I feel rather than hear a commotion to my left. I glance back, look away, and then my brain registers what I actually saw, and my blood boils faster than a lightning strike at sea.

Hrishi, my Hrishi, getting pushed by some guy I don’t know. My possessive senses snap. How dare someone else touch him when he’s mine? No one is allowed to mess with Hrishi apart from me. I like messing with him.

I don’t even really hear what the guy I don’t recognise says, just that his tone is derogatory and the word ‘fag’ is in there somewhere. I pull him away from Hrishi by his shoulder, which my brain suddenly realises is kind of broad and tattooed and before he can get a word out, snarl.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!”

“Fuck’s sake man, it was his damn fault. Stupid faggot should watch where he puts his hands.”

“Sod you!” Hrishi’s voice is like a knife. “Like I’d touch _you_.”

I’m instantly proud he stands up for himself. The guy with the tattoos looks me up and down, taking in my hair, my band emblazoned shirt, and the tense set of my shoulders. He scoffs.

“You gonna spend your time defending this pussy?”

“Yeah, I am. And you’re backwards attitude ain’t welcome here at all. Get out.”

“Fuck you say?”

Hrishi sidesteps me and places his hand on the jerk’s chest, even now it’s like he doesn’t want to touch him at all. I can’t help but let my eyes slide briefly to his butt and the fantastic way it’s framed in his chinos. His trousers match my hair.

“You heard the man. Get out.”

“Hey, I’ve got a ticket!”

“And he’s got a guitar,” Hrishi’s voice drips with scorn and a little bit of lust. “Bye now.”

I watch the guy glower, bluster wordlessly, and stalk huffily away. Whether or not he leaves doesn’t really concern me right now, because Hrishi turns to me with a smile, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to jump him right this second and ram my tongue down his throat. He grins at my hair.

“So are you going to go through the whole rainbow?”

“You sexy bastard.” No one is paying us any attention right now, and it’s loud in the basement, with the noise of amps starting up and guitars tuning in making the air vibrate. I touch his fingers boldly. Hrishi bites his lower lip.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?”

“I’d rather look at you being beautiful.”

“Fuck off, Marty,” his tone is jovial, “go play rock star.”

Leon shouts my name into the microphone with some combination of expletives which would get us both thrown out of the house if our parents heard, and I give Hrishi a long lingering look before I make my way through the crowd and up on stage. It’s not like I can watch Hrishi all the way through our set, but every time I scan the crowd, I find his eyes on me, and it feels fantastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	8. 8

“Hey there, rock star.” Hrishi is waiting by the door; hands in the front pockets of his chinos, looking to me like sex on a stick. “That was a great show.”

“Hey, thanks.”

Most people left an hour ago. A few stragglers were being shepherded in the direction of homes, buses, and trains by the Starfish guys once we turned up the lights. We organised our opening group to help clean up and sweep the floor whilst we packed up our gear. It always takes way longer than everyone thinks it does to break down a drum kit, pack and stow three guitars, wind up all the leads, pedals, amps, and extension cables. I’m just thankful we don’t have to deal with the lighting. Leon deals with his own microphone and stand, and we load the gear up into Jerome’s dad’s van. He’s very much the coolest of all our parents and doesn’t ever seem to mind driving our stuff around and letting Jerome take off afterwards. Some people are happy to simply chuck all their gear together after the end of a show, but it always leads to a headache later on when you have to spend a Sunday afternoon dealing with tangles and checking you haven’t broken anything.

Hrishi has waited for me, and I can’t help but smile as I go back into the brewery to get my guitar.

“I’mma bounce.”

“Dude….” Leon claps me hard on the shoulder with a broad grin. “We killed it tonight.”

“You killed it.”

Leon sips his third beer with a smug little grin.

“Thanks. But you fucking murdered them with that new riff in ‘Dukes’. It was glorious.” Leon offers me his drink, but I shake my head gently. “I’m gonna get us some really good gigs off this new material bud. You wait and see.”

“Bye, Leon, be good now.”

“Am I ever anything else?”

My best friend gives me a look, and I know that in eight hours he’s going to be hung over, or still wasted, and probably sweeping some pretty little thing off her feet.

Hrishi is still there, unmoved, when I emerge.

“Hey, beautiful.” My voice is low and soft, and I can hardly believe I said that to him in public. Hrishi bites his lower lip and blushes in the street light: I love that I can have such an effect on him. “Come home with me?”

“OK.”

I only had one beer, and it was hours ago, but I drive carefully with Hrishi in the passenger seat and the Gibson in the back. My guitars usually ride upfront, and though beautiful; they are far less distracting than Hrishi is, sitting there with his seatbelt on, looking prim and proper, and far too neat to have just been at one of our gigs. His hair is still perfect. I want to ruin him.

We don’t talk as I take my guitar from the back seat - I don’t mind leaving my Marshall amp in the boot until tomorrow - and let us both into the east wing of the house. Hrishi wanders into my room like it’s the most natural place for him to be, and I’m incredibly glad to have stood in the kitchen this morning and listened to my parents explaining they would both be away for the weekend on separate trips. Granted, they didn’t actually _tell_ me. Instead, they shouted at each other about how unfair it was on me to be left alone, each blaming the other for being unwilling to reschedule. Afterwards, I received texts from both of them, though neither apologised. I have the house to myself until Tuesday, and we don’t have college next week.

I hang the Gibson on the wall, but I don’t turn around. Hrishi is there, warm and solid behind me, and I can’t move as he runs his fingers down my spine.

“Take off your clothes.”

Every syllable is a command, and I’m helpless to resist him. I peel out of my shirt glad Hrishi can’t see the deep blush spreading across my cheeks and down my neck. I shouldn’t want him the way I do, he’s a nerdy little guy after all, but already I’m stiff as the mahogany neck of the Gibson.

“Good boy.”

Hrishi’s voice is a purr as I bend to take off my boots and socks. His palm curves around my arse, and I shiver involuntarily, straightening up quickly.

“Keep going.”

“Hrishi….”

“Don’t turn around,” he instructs me, “I want to look at you.”

My breath catches in my chest, my heartbeat loud as a bass drum in my ears, and the sound of my zipper is deafening in the silence punctuated only by our breathing. I push my jeans down, I’m not wearing any underwear, of course, and I hear Hrishi’s stifled groan of desire as my arse is exposed to him. I hunch my shoulders as I kick the denim away, and stand there, still facing the Gibson, buck naked, looking down at the hard length of my cock waving at me in excited anticipation.

“Put your hands on the wall.”

I do it, my knees quivering. I don’t know what he wants, though my experience of gay porn gives a particular focus to the possibilities. I’m only slightly terrified, but I also know I’ll do basically anything he says. I wish I didn’t.

“Your fucking beautiful, Marty.”

He runs his hand from the back of my neck down my spine and gropes my butt. I’m sure I’m not imagining his murmur of appreciation.

“I want you.”

“I’m not ready.” I fight my Adam’s apple to get the words out, but Hrishi just growls against my skin. “I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He sinks his teeth into my shoulder and I thump the plasterboard softly, my forehead pressed against the fret-board of the Gibson.

“You just have to trust me.”

“OK.”

I am immobile as Hrishi loops his arms up under mine and massages my chest. He knows my body well enough by now, rolls my nipples between thumb and forefinger making my dick twitch and bob with every sensation, and I have to bite my own lip to keep from moaning. In my head, I sound wanton and sluttish, and I don’t like how he can have such an effect on me.

“Don’t you dare hold back on me, Marty.”

His words join his hands, his fingernails scraping down my abs and wrapping around my cock. He jacks me slowly, tortuously slowly, and fondles my balls with his slender, dexterous fingers. Unlike me, he’s not tall enough to look over my shoulder, far from it, but I can feel his eyes travelling over my back, my thighs, and my arse.

“Gods, you’re sexy.”

“Ungh….”

“Oh, there’s a good boy.”

He speeds up, pulling on me tightly before rolling my foreskin back to expose the purplish head. When he touches my slit, pressing up under my balls at the same time, I want to scream with unexpected pleasure.

“C’mon, rock star, you can do better than that.”

“Hrishi!” I pant, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. “Please!”

“Please what, rock star?”

“Oh god!” My forearms are braced against the wall, panting, my breath fogging the polished body of the Gibson. I’m shaking all over, my thighs feel like they’re going to give out any second, and Hrishi is still just working over my cock in this unhurried manner which makes me want to scream. I want to come, really badly, but I can’t ask him, and I certainly won’t beg.

“You’re really hot.” Hrishi’s lips graze my skin as he speaks. “I fucking love touching your body, and you taste so damn good too. Love it when you moan for me.”

“Nnnngh!”

“Go on, rock star, moan for me.”

“Ahhh!”

“Better. Again.”

His hands are moving fast, and I am hyper-aware of the weight and warmth of him behind me, the ridge of his erection pressing into the cleft of my butt. I want to kiss him, but I can’t move.

“Marty….”

“Please.” I can’t resist him any longer; it’s too hard. “Ahh… please, Hrishi. I wanna come for you.”

“Oh yeah….”

I have no idea where the last part of my sentence came from, but I don’t care, because Hrishi changes the motion of his hands, and suddenly I’m teetering right on the knife-edge of my orgasm. Hrishi is gnawing at my shoulder blade, and his voice commands every cell in my body when he speaks.

“Come.”

“Ahh! Fuuuuck!” I watch as my cock spurts over the wall and the indigo body of my Gibson. I’ve never seen myself look so desperately sexy and out of control.

“Good boy.”

Hrishi keeps moving his hand over me: slow; erotic; incredible. He’s making it really hard to stand up.

“Stay right there.”

The rustle of him taking off his clothes makes me nervous, but his hand returns to massaging my genitals quickly, and the aftershocks of pleasure are good.

“Fuck, Marty. I want you so badly.”

Hrishi rubs himself between my cheeks. He’s so hard and so warm, and his cock is slick with his precum, sliding up and down against my arse. I’m seriously turned on, and already I’m getting hard again. Hrishi’s chuckle of pleasure is loud against my spine.

“Oh, Marty….”

He speeds up, humping my backside, jerking me off, and his free hand clamps down over my heart, pulling the two of us together.

“Yesssss!”

“Oh fuck!”

Hrishi snarls wordlessly and becomes tense and still as he comes against my back. His cum is hot on my skin, his cock nestled in my crack as he continues to twitch and shoot.

“Yeah….” Hrishi sounds smug and sated. “Turn round.” His smile sends shivers up my spine. “Touch yourself.”

It takes about twenty seconds and then I’m coming again, my orgasm almost painful, my cum this time is thin and splatters over my belly. Hrishi looks incredibly proud, and doesn’t even bother to fully undress before he simply collapses against me and cuddles up to my chest. His shirt will be stained.

“You’re damn good with that guitar, Marty.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, and sexy as hell.”

I grin; catch his jaw with one and hand and dive into his lips. He opens up for my tongue, and we melt together. He tastes like cheap lemonade and the grimy salt-sweat of the gig, and I can’t get enough. We end up on the bed, dishevelled and wrapped up in each other, and I’ve no idea how long it is before we come up for air. My stomach grumbles insanely loudly.

“I could eat,” Hrishi offers with a grin.

“Yeah?” It occurs to me I’ve never watched him eat anything before. “What do you want?”

“Besides you?” Hrishi reaches out and palms my soft penis as I stand up; his smile is wicked. “You gonna cook?”

“Ha! The only thing I can make is cheese toasties. I’ll order in; what’ll it be?”

“Anything but Indian.”

I leave him and vanish into the bathroom, clean up with a thirty second shower and dial my favourite Hungarian restaurant from my mobile. I have no idea if there’s anything Hrishi doesn’t eat, but the specials involve various combinations of salami, black olives, goat’s cheese, and smoked salmon, so I order three different làngos and pudding, which is way more than we’re going to be able to eat, then dry my hair. I grin at my reflection, because I look smug and happy, and though Bayley is always on at me about styling my hair, I kind of like the soft way my blue fringe falls in my face. I wonder if I should get dressed. Is it unseemly to wander around nude after having excellent… well, not sex, but sexy stuff, with your… well, not boyfriend? Dammit.

I grab a pair of sweats and head out of the bathroom scrolling through the pictures the Starfish guys have tweeted of our gig. It’s not like anyone outside of our town and the surrounding villages will probably see them, but there are a couple of great ones of me and Leon especially: the light bouncing off our guitars. I send them to him, because he’ll never bother to check himself.

“You’d better not be wearing boxer’s under there.”

Hrishi voice sends a chill up my spine.

“I ain’t. We’re eating Hungarian. What is it with you and your aversion to underwear anyway?” I glance up from my phone and then drop the damn thing on my foot. “What are you doing?”

“I got comfy.”

Hrishi’s clothes are folded neatly in a square pile by the foot of my bed, and he is lying on the duvet as though my bed is a throne. He has my journal in one hand.

“And I don’t have a problem with _my_ underwear.” Hrishi arches an eyebrow at me over the top of my private journal. “I just like you to be easy access.”

“You can’t read that.” I lean across him to grab my journal, but damn the boy is quick like a fox. “Hrishi! I’m serious.”

“You write some good songs. Or lyrics. Whatever. You played this one tonight, right?”

He has the page open at _Black Eyed Boy_ , but he’s already been thumbing through a half dozen other pages, things no one is supposed to see, possibly ever. Anyone who thinks every lyric has potential to go places is either a moron or totally uneducated.

“Yeah. Gimmie that!” This time I succeed in snatching the journal off him. “I said you can’t read that. It’s private.”

“Really? Then why are you letting that jerk friend of yours sing it to a hundred people in a disused basement?”

“Lay off Leon.”

“Only when he lays off me,” Hrishi snaps back.

I grit my teeth, trying not to reply. We’ve gone from enjoying each other to biting at each other’s throats in ten seconds flat.

“You know....” Hrishi sits up, folding his legs underneath himself neatly, and I can’t help but stare at the dark shapes of his cock and balls between his thighs. I love his thighs. “If you worked this hard on your computing assignments, your grades wouldn’t be so abysmally poor.”

“Sure, because you could write a decent song, could you?”

“Wouldn’t need to,” Hrishi replies smarmily, “I’m smart enough to make a computer program which could write one for me.”

I sneer at him.

“Oh yeah, because that would give you a song with soul and emotion would it?”

Hrishi snatches up my journal and waves it at me like it’s on fire. I dread to think what else he’s been reading in there.

“You call this ‘soul and emotion’ do you? It’s so much generic angsty teenage bullshit. There are a thousand other shit songs which all say the same thing.” His voice takes on a mocking tone I’ve not heard him use on me before, even when my grasp of programming concepts has been poor. “Oh woe is me, my life is _so_ hard, and I’ve nobody to talk to, and my parents are dicks.”

“You know fuck all about my parents,” I snarl. I clench a fist, wanting to hit something and Hrishi notices.

“Don’t even think about it.”

I punch the wall. It’s a stupid, immature thing to do, but I feel much better for half a second before pain shoots up my arm. I think I might have cracked a knuckle. I breath hard for a while focusing on my pain. Hrishi makes no move towards me, just sits on my bed and watches me wince like he’s king of the damn world or something.

“Why do you think I’ve never introduced you to my parents?” I say eventually.

He doesn’t even pause in his reply.

“Because you’re scared they’ll smell the gay coming off me before I even open my mouth, you’re terrified of them finding out, and you’re ashamed to be with me.”

Only two of these things are even remotely true, but Hrishi doesn’t pause long enough to give me time to say anything.

“I’m fine with being your dirty little secret, Marty, but don’t you pretend I’m anything else. You sneak me in here like we’re back in colonial times and someone might lash you for being caught with the little Indian peasant.” He scoffs, “maybe your parents will mistake me for the pool boy.”

I don’t even have the brain-space to point out we don’t have a pool, because I launch at him, grab his upper arms and pin Hrishi to the wall. I’ve lifted him from the floor enough that he’s having to keep his balance on tiptoes. Bastard doesn’t even look scared.

“I’ve never introduced you to my parents because I’m ashamed to be related to them!” I snap. I can’t ever remember feeling so angry.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Hrishi has some special way of seeing into my head, because there’s nothing he can say which will help. Instead, he leans forward, kisses me hard, like we’re having a fight - and we are - and within seconds his hands are pushing at my sweats and grabbing my abs. I hold him tight for a second, resisting, then my body caves, and we’re all over each other in desperation. He has our cocks aligned in his hand within moments, jerking us off together. I pant, hardly believing I’m up for my third orgasm inside an hour; finding the soft skin of his shoulder with my mouth, I chew on him until we’re both moments from orgasm.

Hrishi snarls wordlessly. I cry out, a high pitched whimper I never knew I could make, and we both sink against the wall then slide down to slump on my bedroom floor in a tangle of limbs.

“Seriously though,” Hrishi’s laboured breath gives him away, but he rejoins our conversation as though getting off was purely punctuation, “don’t you have other friends you talk to about any of this?”

I blink through what he said and find myself smiling.

“What?” He frowns at me.

“We’re friends now?”

“You have my cum on your skin, I’m fairly certain that qualifies.” He shrugs, like this doesn’t matter. “Sure, we’re friends.”

I suppose it should make me happy, but for a while I’ve been thinking of what we have as more than that.

“Just friends?”

He glowers at me.

“Fucking hell, Marty, this might be the first real conversation we’ve ever had, and you want me to declare my undying love for you? Piss off.”

I extract myself from his body and tuck my dick back into my sweats. I’m going to wish later I’d taken the time to clean up properly, but I hate feeling exposed when he talks to me like that. He’s so bloody confident, and I wish I felt stronger in his presence. I don’t want to ask the question, but it’s there in my mouth, and I can’t not.

“Are you screwing other people?”

“Now? No. Are you?”

I didn’t miss his qualifier.

“Have you, before?”

“Yes.” A single word thrown away, as though it doesn’t matter. “You’ve not, I take it?”

“No.” The admission makes me feel almost shy.

There is a long pause during which all I can feel is my heartbeat echoing his pulse everywhere our skin touches.

“Marty….” his voice has gone all soft and gentle, and I can’t stand it. I jump to my feet just as the buzzer for the gate goes on my phone. It’s perfect damn timing.

“We’re not done with this,” I hiss at him as I buzz the delivery guy through the gate, grab my hoodie and pad outside to collect our dinner. I thought when I ordered it we would sit on my bed or on the couch, talk and laugh, chat about the gig and trade delicious spicy kisses, but now I’ve no idea. When I return, Hrishi is still naked, as though such a thing is perfectly normal, and I wonder how someone who gets bullied on a regular basis at college is so confident in his skin. He’s got my journal open in his lap again, and I know the shape of the lyrics to my newest favourite song. The first version I wrote in a mess of scribblings and crossed out sections, but the title was always the same, and has been doodled on and over embellished.

“You’d better not be writing about me, Marty.”

“What if I am?” Taking my journal from him at this point seems to be rather useless, so I just drop the food on the coffee table and start unpacking it. Everything smells heavenly. “You don’t get a say in what I do with my professional life.”

“ _Music_ is your professional life?” Hrishi’s tone is so fucking patronising I want to hit something, again.

“You know what? Fuck you. Just because I can’t write an algorithm which isn’t full of bugs, or make a program which actually fucking builds, does not make me stupid or less successful than you. One day there’s gonna be people singing along to my words on the damn radio.”

“So, I’m just a nerdy plaything?”

Hrishi’s words should sound self-pitying, but they don’t. His dark eyes are full of fire, and I don’t want to touch him. I might get burnt.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I could put other things in there,” he replies suggestively.

I gape at him in shock.

“Just… just come over here and eat will you?” I collapse on the sofa. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Or exhausted from fucking?”

I want to hate him, but I don’t feel anything but warm relief as he settles himself half in my lap.

“We’re not fucking.” Sometimes the obvious needs to be stated.

“Not yet, rock star.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	9. 9

Hrishi and I sit facing each other, knee to knee, on the corner sofa eating làngos as we listen to indie rock. The playlist is heavy with newer Fall Out Boy tracks; some nu-metal, which would be terrible if not for the amazing guitar riffs; and a sprinkling of circa-two-thousand independent bands who all recorded like one or two good songs before vanishing into obscurity. Every time we touch, we leave greasy and delicious fingerprints on each other’s skin.

“This is really good.” Somehow, Hrishi still manages to enunciate every syllable even with his mouth full.

“Savoury, deep fried, meat filled doughnuts. What’s not to like?” I take a swig of my soda, and Hrishi steals it from my hand. “I can’t believe you’ve never had them before.”

“I doubt they’re spicy enough for my dad.”

“But you like it, yeah?” I take the salmon and cream cheese stuffed làngos Hrishi is eating and wolf the rest of it down. “What do you eat at home?”

Hrishi arches an eyebrow at me.

“I’m Indian: so all our food is awesome.” Hrishi rubs a hand over his abdomen and chews his lower lip. He’s not embarrassed about being naked, but I can read worry on his face. “No one could eat this all the time. I’d be so fat.”

“Why don’t you run?”

“Huh?”

“When we have athletics,” I explain, “why don’t you ever run? You just hang around at the back with the lazy girls.” I gesture to his perfect body, the hint of his abdominal muscles under his skin like coiled sleeping snakes. “You’re really fit and way too strong. What do you do, martial arts?”

“I told you, I’m a pacifist.” Hrishi looks thoughtful. “I like walking. The dark is nice.”

“You’re weird.”

“Says the boy who owns….” I can see Hrishi’s eyes counting around the room. “Eight guitars.”

“Nine. I keep one in my locker.”

“Fucking hell.” Hrishi slumps back flat on the sofa giving me a view of his body, which directs perspective towards his cock. He’s so unaware of how beautiful he is. “I forget you really are that rich.”

“Thanks, I think.” I wipe my hands on my sweats, feeling nervous. Food has gotten in the way of our fight, but it’s not like we resolved anything either. “What are we doing here, Hrishi? I mean really doing.” I don’t give him time to answer. “I love that we’re talking now, I hated the not talking, but you’ve made it pretty clear that you think I’m stupid.”

Hrishi bites his lip; and for a moment, his confidence is gone. I see uncertainty and guilt written all over his features.

“You annoy the fuck out of me sometimes, and I hate the way you talk in class like I’m a total fucking moron, but I think I-.”

“Marty….” Hrishi’s voice is full of warning. “Don’t spoil a good thing.”

“You think this a good thing?” I snap.

“It’s fun.” Hrishi leans up on his elbows to glare at me. “Hey, you’re the one who started this damn thing anyway.”

“Yeah, and you said I was a waste of plasma.”

Hrishi recoils physically, like his own words thrown back at him hurt in ways he wasn’t expecting. Pushing the food aside, I grab his wrist and pull him up to meet me. I touch the place on his shoulder where I’ve left another hickey on his dark skin, and smile.

“You remember what you called that?”

“Yes.” Hrishi’s voice is whisper quiet against my skin. “I actually really like you, Marty.”

I gulp, wanting to say something into the cavernous silence left by Hrishi’s words, but he stills me with his lips in the hollow of my throat.

“I’ve been hanging out in PE so I could watch you, like, most of last year. And I wasn’t ever gonna tell you either. I figured you’d hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I murmur quietly.

“You could have found a better way to tell me, rather than just molest me.” Hrishi glances up and grabs my jaw, stopping me from replying. “I don’t even want to talk about that, not now. You stood up for me tonight and that was really awesome. I didn’t know if you were ever going to do that. It was brave.”

“Turns out I’m not a total jackass.”

“Surprising us both, hey, rock star?”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” I lean forward to kiss him, and it’s soft and gently spicy. It’s nice, but it’s not exactly what I’m used to. I bite his lip, and Hrishi growls into my mouth. This kiss is fierce and hard. In two minutes, I’m on my back, Hrishi is holding down my wrists, and I buck against him. I should not be turned on again, even though I’m not fully hard already. It’s not biologically feasible.

“What are you trying to make me do to you, Marty?” Hrishi looks at me intently, his face only inches away from mine, and I’m suddenly reminded that he is completely naked. He grinds into me, the heat of his body making me shiver. “What is it you want, rock star?”

“Ummm….” I have no words in me. I want him, but I can’t say exactly how. There are way too many images and desires flooding through my skull to make sense of.

“Marty?”

“I… can’t.”

Hrishi releases my wrists and I slither out of from under him.

“I gotta go put on some clothes.”

This is definitely not the finest moment in my life as I grab whatever is on the floor and shut myself in the bathroom. I’m shaking like a leaf as I yank my shirt and jumper on over my head. I don’t know what I want, but I can’t look at Hrishi while I work it out. I brush my teeth, purely for something to do, and massage my bruised knuckles. I should not have punched the wall. I’m either going to have to hang a guitar or a poster over the dent in the plasterboard or actually tell my parents, so we can get a contractor in. The last option does not appeal.

“Marty?” Hrishi’s voice is close and low. The door’s not locked, but he doesn’t try the handle. I hear it when he slumps against the wood. “You OK in there?” A long silence. “Marty? Seriously, make a noise so I know you haven’t fainted or something.”

“I’m here.”

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, rock star? You’re all hot and ready for it one second, and then… well, I’m talking to you through a door, so….” Hrishi’s sigh is full of things he’s not saying. “I thought we were getting on okay?”

“For once,” I mutter.

“For once,” he repeats. Damn the guy has good ears. “I might be smart, but I’m no mind reader.” Another super long pause, and then, the door shakes. I gather he’s thumped it rather ineffectually. “Dammit, Marty, you started this. Don’t tell me now you’re too scared to ask for what you want? You were pretty blatant about it in the showers.”

“That was different.”

“Why?”

“Because….” Because, I never thought we’d be here having this conversation. I never thought we’d fight so much, or so intensely. I never thought underneath his nerdy know-it-all exterior there was a guy who could bring me to orgasm with just his voice. “Because, I like you too much.”

“Riiiight….”

I yank open the bathroom door and Hrishi very nearly falls into me. He still hasn’t put on any clothes. Now might be a good time to be brave again.

“Is this a relationship?”

I get the rare opportunity of seeing Hrishi falter before he replies.

“No. Not if you’re still in the closet.”

“Oh.”

“Marty, how can it be? I’m not, and people are going to just work it out if we’re together in public.”

“We could just say we’re friends?”

“And how is that going to go over with your musical pals?” Hrishi folds his arms and sighs. “Do you know where my parents think I am right now?”

“Er….” The thought had never occurred to me; my parents haven’t asked for explanations of my whereabouts in years.

“They think I’m at a LAN party with my friends. And not, before you ask, because they’d freak out if I was on a date with a guy. My mum worked out I was gay before I did, though I’m still not quite sure how exactly.” He chews his lip, and I want to kiss him. I resist.

“Then why d’you lie to them?”

He sighs and shakes his head at me.

“Because, if they knew I was seeing a boy, they’d want to meet you, and my dad would totally be asking me all these questions. Like... if you were a good person, and how you treated me, and if we were being safe.” He pushes a fingertip against my lips. “And up until now, I haven’t known if I was anything much more than a convenient sexual distraction for you.”

“What we do is hardly what I’d call convenient.”

“Not really my point, Marty.”

“Yes, fine.” The conversation makes my head hurt, and briefly, I wish we were back to not talking. A glance at the clock shows me we have been arguing most of the night. “Do you need me to drive you home?”

Hrishi takes a step back, shocked, and I grab his arm.

“You’re kicking me out? For that?”

“What? No!” I pull him against me and lock my arms around his waist. “I mean, it’s three in the damn morning.”

Hrishi is chewing his lower lip again, like he’s nervous.

“You wanna stay?” I ask softly.

“Yeah.” Hrishi smiles sweetly and kisses my chest. “That’d be nice.”

I pack the food away; I have my own fridge, though there isn’t normally anything in it but soda, a six-pack, and a bottle of something way too strong in the freezer compartment. I find myself plumping the sofa cushions and clearing away dirty plates and napkins. I use one to wipe my cum from the blue body of the Gibson; it’s left a smudge which I’ll have to polish out. Only when there’s no more fussing left to do, do I turn to the bed.

Hrishi sits on the mattress, the comforter pulled up over his legs, but I can still see he’s naked. I gulp audibly.

“Hrishi?”

“Hmmm?” He flexes his shoulders as he tilts his head to look at me, and his hair, inky dark, spills over his chest. The motion makes me shiver.

“D-d’you think you could maybe put some clothes on?” I hate the way I stutter.

Hrishi frowns. Then simply makes himself more comfortable against my pillows.

“I don’t sleep with anything on at home.”

“Right.”

“Don’t get fucking shy on me now, Marty. Just get over here.”

The commanding tone of his voice leaves no room for more hesitation, so I do just that, shucking off my clothes, turning out the lights and climbing under the covers. Instantly, Hrishi moulds to my side, his whole body smooth and warm against my skin. I can pick out the individual textures of his calf and knee coming over my thigh, the softness of his crotch against my hip, the hard muscle of his shoulder tucking under my armpit, his head on my chest. I wrap my arm around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world for us to be snuggled up naked in bed.

“This,” he says in a decidedly sleepy tone, “is a very comfortable bed.”

“You talking about me or the mattress?”

I feel Hrishi’s smile on my skin in the dark.

“You are my mattress. Sleep well, rock star.”

*

“Gentlemen!” Our computing lecturer claps his hands with a grin, like he’s incredibly pleased with himself. “We are now entering Compliers!” There is a collection of assembled groans and sighs, and the odd gleeful chirrup. I am barely listening, because, although Hrishi is across the room, he is texting me under the desk.

_I can’t wait for this lesson 2b over so I can blow u in the backroom_

_U dirty fucker!_

He replies quickly _. U gonna say more than that when Im grabbing ur ass_

I blush into my lap, and apparently, Hrishi notices.

_Dont get shy rock star. TD2M_

_Not forgtn how gd u r with ur tongue_

The idea that as soon as I’m done feeling stupid and ignorant about our new computer science topic, Hrishi will fall to his knees and make me feel like a god is doing terrible things to my ability to concentrate, even on texting.

_Gonna make u swllw my cum_

“If it’s too much trouble to concentrate, I’ll have your phone now.”

I blanch, and drop my mobile on the floor with a surprisingly loud clatter. Our lecturer, who already hates me, is standing directly behind me, and he looks apoplectic with rage. I really don’t want to know how much he read over my shoulder.

“Sir, I-”

“Get out of my lesson.”

I bend down to scoop up my phone, but his foot lands over it without force.

“Leave that.”

“Hey!”

“Wait for me outside.”

I scrape my chair deliberately as I get up, grab my bag, and remove myself from the computer lab. I can feel Hrishi watching me, and I wish I could say something or he would, but there isn’t any point us both getting in trouble. At least his contact information is just saved under my contacts as ‘HS’ because I’ve been faintly terrified of Leon or Jerome trying to nick my phone to see who I’m talking to.

In the corridor, I throw my bag at the opposite wall; it lands with a dull thud as I begin to pace the narrow width with increasingly angry footfalls. He is the only lecturer I have who stills treats me like this is school and I’m still answerable to him like a child would be. He had to have noticed Hrishi on his phone too, but of course, he would never touch the golden boy who can make computers do almost anything he wants. It occurs to me, he’s also the only one of my lecturers whose name I don’t know. I’m left stewing in my anger for ten minutes, and then he appears, shutting the door behind him as he looks intently at my phone.

“This is disgusting.”

“Well, it’s not for you, is it?” My reflexes are pretty quick, and I snatch the phone from his hand. A quick glance at the screen tells me he hasn’t scrolled back far enough to have read the exchange Hrishi and I had a little while ago where he offered his cock as a way of shutting me up during a music theory lecture.

“You should learn to respect women a lot more.”

“Huh?” It takes a long minute for me to realise he hasn’t worked out the person on the other end of the texts is another guy.

“I’m going to talk with your tutor, this is obviously incredibly unhealthy. You should attend some sensitivity training.”

“Piss off,” I mutter, but low enough not to be heard directly. He knows I said something derogatory, though.

“No woman who lets you speak to her like that, is ever going to respect you or herself. Is that what you want?”

At least I can be honest with my answer.

“No.” I grit my teeth. “So, can I come back in or what?”

He glares at me.

“Are you actually going to learn anything?”

“From you?” I sneer at him, “probably not.” I snatch my bag, turn and walk away down the corridor.

“I still expect you to complete the assignment!”

I give him the finger as I turn the corner.

_Mt me in library_

I spend the next forty minutes hanging around in the stacks thumbing through some sheet music and scrawling notes in my journal. We’ve also been given a new assignment for music today: an original song as a solo piece. I’m used to making charts for the band and having Leon beef up my lyrics, but this is different. Also, I know I’m going to have to perform it in front of people, so it can’t be something I don’t want everyone to know. I have a little three chord strum with the line _‘I never knew, I never knew’_ going round and round in my head when I hear Hrishi whisper my name in a library quiet voice.

“Hey.” I’m still tense from my argument, and I flinch when Hrishi lays a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t stand that guy. He fucking hates me.”

“C’mon.” Hrishi grabs my hand and tugs me toward the back of the library. “You’re no use to me all wound up like this.”

“What…?”

There is a tiny storage cupboard at the back of the stacks. Hrishi pushes me in, follows and then presses me back against the door; effectively locking it with my body. Just as I’m about to pull him in for a kiss, he works my jeans open and kneels between my feet.

“You can’t fix everything with blo―” I start to say, but my sentence ends with a groan because, Hrishi has fixed his lips around my shaft and is lapping at the head of my cock like a cat with all the cream. His eyes are closed, and his lashes are incredibly long and dark against his cheek. Even in the dark of the cupboard, it’s a massive turn on just to look at him. He explores further with his tongue and begins to bob up and down my length, with his hands gripping my thighs. “Oh fuck….”

Hrishi makes a rather contented noise around my dick in his mouth. As he begins to work my jeans down under my arse with his hands, squeezing my cheeks hard, he opens his throat and the pressure around me increases tenfold. His nose rubbing against my treasure trail tickles, but my laugh turns into a moan in my throat because, even though I can’t describe what he’s doing to me, it feels fantastic. I thread my fingers into his hair as he continues to suck my shaft in and out of his mouth, and he practically purrs. I don’t apply any pressure, but it’s nice to feel anchored. My legs are probably going to give way any second.

Hrishi lets go of my arse. There’s a wet sucking noise, and suddenly, his fingers return moist with his own saliva to press against my sphincter. I near enough jump out of my skin.

“Hrishi!”

“Keep your voice down!” he hisses quickly. He hasn’t moved his hand away, and punctuates his words by licking the exposed head of my hard on while he touches me in a way I can only think of as intimate. “Shut up and trust me.”

“But….”

“Marty,” Hrishi’s voice is full of warning, a deep tone I can’t resist, “be brave, rock star.

I take a deep shuddering breath as he wraps his lips around me again. My thighs quiver as Hrishi fondles my balls and strokes the tips of his fingers over my entrance in time with the bobbing of his head. I feel helpless, so I clasp my hands together behind my head and try not to cry out when Hrishi uses the pad of his thumb to press hard into my taint. My orgasm hits like a sledgehammer around the back of my skull, and I don’t get even a momentary warning before I come in his mouth. I curl over his head, every muscle tense as I flow out into him, and Hrishi sucks on my cock like a tumescent popsicle. He settles back onto his heels with a grin, still touching me, rolling my nuts between his fingers, and rubbing little circles on skin I never thought had so many nerve endings. He looks incredibly smug.

“You feel better now, rock star?” He licks his lips arching a dark eyebrow at me. “Dear gods, but you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Hrishi….”

I manage to catch his shirt as he stands and pull him close for a kiss. He tastes like me, invades my mouth like he belongs there, and I groan against him. Hrishi weaves his fingers into my hair and tugs sharply. I gasp.

“Less tense now?”

“Yeah.”

“Time to return the favour then, rock star.” Hrishi pushes me down by one shoulder, doesn’t let go of my hair, and I get his fly open as fast as I can. He’s already hard, and I want to look at him, maybe kiss him a little, but Hrishi yanks me forward by my hair and forces his cock into my mouth. I gasp, wrap my fingers around his hips, and let Hrishi dictate the pace. I glance up at him, and he’s grinning broadly.

“Good boy.”

I love the feeling of his hard cock sliding in and out of my mouth: the stiffness of the muscle, and the silky smoothness of his skin against my tongue and lips. His precum coats my tongue, sweet like honey, and I groan. I can’t get enough of the taste of him.

“Touch me.” Hrishi pulls me close, his pubic bone pressing against my nose, and I can’t reply. I swallow around the head of his cock, and I take him as far into my mouth as I can. He growls, and I can feel the vibration all the way through my body. “C’mon, Marty, don’t get all shy on me. Touch me.”

His arse is perfect. Since I came over his back in the shower, I haven’t spent nearly as long admiring him as I want. Sexy illicit hook ups at college are great, but risky, and not fantastic in terms of privacy. But it’s what Hrishi wants, and who turns down the chance to grope a guy as sexy as him?

I get his chinos and underwear down under his arse, and knead the firm mounds greedily. Hrishi makes a satisfied noise, works his fingers to the back of my head and thrusts his dick firmly but slowly into me. I brush the cleft between his buttocks and he jerks involuntarily. I stop, concerned I’ve gone too far, but Hrishi tugs on my hair again.

“No. More.” He glances down at me, his eyes dark and full of fire. “Now.” Nothing about his tone suggests he’s begging; he is demanding, and I am in no position to argue. I skim my fingers over his skin again until I touch at the tight pucker of his hole. I’ve fantasized about fucking him for weeks, seen his body and his face every time I’ve jerked off at home in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, and now he is commanding me to bring him pleasure with my fingers. Any reservations I have about screwing up or hurting him are swallowed along with the inexorable thrusting of his cock.

I work my fingers into my mouth, just like he did, then touch back at his entrance. He moves against my hand, bringing my mouth closer so his thrusts don’t leave any room for lack of contact. Just as he buries himself in my throat once more, I push a finger past the tight ring of muscle and into his body. Hrishi growls and grabs my neck and shoulder tightly, and I work into him, trying to remember what it feels like to have his body surrounding part of me. He’s so warm it’s like a furnace, and tighter than I have an adequate analogy for. I’ve watched enough gay porn to know what I’m aiming for, and in between the sawing motion of his hips, I find it.

“Fuck!”

Hrishi gasps loudly, his voice seeming to fill the tiny closet we have trapped ourselves in, and I can’t help but smile privately that I caught him off guard. I get the feeling he wasn’t expecting me to know where to look. I stroke my finger against the firm muscle of his prostate again, and he clutches at my shoulder so hard I think he’s drawn blood. It only takes another few strokes, and I’m swallowing his orgasm just as happily as he drank mine. I pull out of him gently, not letting go of his cock until I’m stroking his butt with both hands again, and grin.

“Will that do?” I ask, sounding beyond cocky.

“Oh, Marty….”

“Why don’t you come to mine and we can work on whatever new damn assignment I’ve gotta slog through?” I offer as I stand, rearranging my clothes.

“Work?” he enquires.

“Well, we can start with good intentions.”

Hrishi’s smile is the only answer I need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	10. 10

“You’ve been playing those three transitions over and over for the last twenty minutes.”

“Longer than that,” Leon replies for me. “I feel like I’ve been hearing bits of that for weeks. What are you working on?”

I glance up from my Bobtail Resonator, the fingers of my left hand still holding an A-minor as the tune dies, and I kick my journal closed with the toe of one shoe. I had this end of the common room to myself, and I’ve been playing around with the chorus long enough that I hadn’t noticed the others turning up.

“We missed you at sound check.” Jerome sits heavily across from me tapping his knee with his sticks. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without drumsticks in his hand.

I glance across at Leon with a frown.

“You never told me we had sound check this morning.”

“We were mostly just tracking drums.” Aaron rolls his eyes at Jerome. “You’ve gotta get it together, dude. You were all over the place.”

“Fuck you man, you’re the one stomping all over the rhythm section. Just stand at the back and play G like a good bassist should, eh?”

“You wanker.” Aaron throws a book at our drummer, which ends up smacking me in the shoulder. “Sorry, Marty.”

“You should apologise for murdering the second riff in ‘Black Eyed Boy’, that’s what you should do.” Leon claps me on the shoulder with a smile. “We’ll do a full run through next week after radio, OK?”

“Sure…” My brain catches up with my ears. “Wait, what?”

Leon is grinning broadly, every inch our cocky front man.

“We’re gonna lay it down as the demo.”

“I thought we we’re gonna do ‘Dukes’?” Leon has been planning the recording and release of our demo for months, and ‘Dukes’ is the big crowd-pleasing song whenever we play a gig. It’s also the one we’ve practised the most, and while Jerome is a great drummer, I didn’t make it easy on him, or the rest of us, when I wrote the charts for my favourite song.

“You really weren’t paying attention at the gig were you, Marty?” Leon jerks his head and I get up, sling the Bobtail over my shoulder and follow him to the private practice rooms. “The song is killer, I think it’s our best shot.” He glances at me sideways, and I’m not used to Leon looking so serious. “You’re alright with that, right?”

“Of course.” I shiver nervously, and try not to flinch when Leon’s hand lands on my shoulder.

“I love those lyrics, but it’d be nice to know what I’m singing about.”

My heart is in my mouth, my throat full of spikes, and my stomach is trying to turn itself inside out. For a horrible, terrible second, I feel that Leon must know or he wouldn’t have asked, and he certainly wouldn’t have taken us off in private to have this conversation. The fact that I wasn’t invited to the band’s sound check session this morning makes me ever more nervous. I hate that they might have been talking behind my back. Just then, my phone buzzes, and I swallow audibly as I check the message.

_Just GTFO world’s most boring lecture. Come mk my day btr. Bthrms 2nd floor_

“Girlfriend keeping you busy, Marty?”

“Huh? What?”

“C’mon, man, I know you’ve got someone in your life.” Leon shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “After all, it’s not like anyone could miss every hickey this wildcat’s been giving you.” He takes the opportunity to pull the neck of my shirt aside, and sure enough; Hrishi’s lips have left a dark and prominent mark on my skin claiming me as his, and there’s another Leon can’t see under my left pec which hurt like a bitch. In the privacy of my bathroom at home, I love looking at them, but now, I blush and pull away from my best friend.

“Leave it.”

“You’re not embarrassed are you, Marty? Fuck, you must be the only guy I know not bragging about getting lucky.” He sticks his hands in his pockets with a slouch. “I always figured y’know, you’d tell me when you found someone. We’ve been friends a long time bud. You can trust me.”

I don’t know if I can trust him with this, but he looks so earnest, and I nearly tell him. A girl from the brass band comes around the corner, and the moment is broken. I smile at my best friend.

“My life isn’t nearly as interesting as you think it is.”

“Uh-huh.” Leon gestures to the guitar on my back. “That your solo piece?”

“Yeah.” I can’t help, but smile. It’s not complete, but there’s a great feeling in the music when I play it. “I figured I’d go with the Resonator, get a more rounded sort of sound. Might end up a little bit country.”

“I’ll buy you a cowboy hat for your big début,” Leon ruffles my hair with a grin. “I figured you were going to go all folk on us. I’ve been hearing a lot of Jethro Tull coming outta your headphones lately.”

My phone vibrates in my hand, but I don’t need to check it to know Hrishi is waiting for me. I don’t want to disappoint him.

“I gotta go, Leon.“

“Yeah, whatever man.” Leon looks disappointed. “I’mma gonna get the truth out of you one of these days, Marty. See you for soundboard later.”

I don’t stop to stow my guitar in my locker, but run with my lyric journal in one hand over to the main building, practically crashing into some artsy first year carrying a sketch book bigger than she is, and I skid up the stairs in my rush to make it to the bathrooms to the second floor. When I get there, it’s not empty.

Hrishi is nowhere in sight, but there’s a locked stall, and two guys at the urinals. One look at them shows me they are the sort who hate having to spend an extra two years in education, and they sneer at my coloured hair and the guitar on my back. Clearly, I try far too hard.

“What?” one of them snaps in an irritated but gormless tone. My arrival has obviously interrupted some deep theological conversation they were having in grunts. “Fuck are you looking at?”

It’s usually best not to answer. Flushed from running from the music block, I take a deep breath and hook my thumbs in my pockets. It takes all of two seconds for my gesture to be misread.

“You think you’re so much better than us, that it?”

I do, but that’s hardly the point. I frown, but I don’t get a chance to respond.

“Like that fucking little faggot,” the other one spits, “walking around with his brown nose in the air like he’s superior.”

Something in the back of my brain snaps as I realise they are talking about Hrishi. I don’t really hear much else of what they say, and my vision is blurred as they laugh and joke with each other, finishing off and zipping up. The one of them who spoke first knocks my shoulder as he makes to leave.

“Fuck are you still standing there for, guitar boy? What, you a sissy little shit who needs showing his proper place too, are you?”

All my abilities to use language flee before my rage. I can’t find a verbal response, but this guy is a stain on the atmosphere I breathe. Without thinking about it, I haul off and punch him square in the bridge of the nose. My hand hurts instantly―it was the same one I punched the wall with a while back―and fractured knuckles, apparently, hurt for a lot longer than I thought.

“Oi!” his companion shouts, but my hand is still a fist, and I’m tense. He can tell and doesn’t step forward, just reaches out for his friend. The boy I hit is bleeding into his hand and onto his shirt.

“You’re a bully,” I state simply, my voice all hard-edged and low. I barely even recognise it as my own. “You should fuck off now probably.”

The guy I punched looks like he’s about to argue. But when his eyes meet mine, he glances away _very_ quickly. As the door shuts behind them, I consciously unclench my jaw, reaching for my phone. I have to find Hrishi.

He beats me to it.

“Marty?” I have never heard him sound shaky and uncertain before, but his voice pulls at me, and I end up standing outside the locked stall.

“Hey.” My voice is as bruised as my knuckles.

The door opens with a squeak and Hrishi stands there, his clothes rumpled, his eyes big, dark, and frightened like a deer. There are four million things I want to say to him, but not I single one of them makes it past my lips. I grab him roughly, pull him up against my body, and stick my tongue down his throat. Not even in the showers or after we fought in my bedroom, have I ever felt this wound up. There isn’t time to speak, or breathe, or pause between kissing, stepping further back into the stall, not caring if the door behind us isn’t locked as I pull his shirt open. I know one of the buttons has skittered across the floor, but I don’t care. I abandon his lips, kissing and biting down his neck to his chest, wrapping my fingers tight around his ribs as I nip at one nipple. Hrishi’s fingers are tight and painful in my hair. I practically rip his trousers open and twist him with my fingers on his hips.

“Turn round.”

“Marty….” He sounds unsure. I suck on my own fingers, and then press into the cleft of his arse. Instantly he braces himself against the wall above the toilet.

“Shut up,” I grunt. I invade his body swiftly, and he cries out, bites his own arm, and I slow down a little, taking my time as I push into him with slicked up fingers. Watching my hand slide in and out of his tight opening is incredibly intense. “Touch yourself.”

Hrishi just groans, and I look over his shoulder as he wraps strong brown fingers around his cock: he’s so hard already. I set my teeth in the side of his neck, high up where he won’t be able to hid it, and gnaw my mark into him as I twist my fingers to try and find his prostate.

“Marty!”

Hrishi’s voice lets me know when I’ve found it, and I lick the bruise I’ve left on his dark skin as I peg him again. He groans in time with my thrusting fingers and I stand back a little to watch. He’s quivering, his arm shaking as he jacks himself furiously, and his beautiful arse clenches around my hand.

I fumble with my fly, grab my aching cock, and with two strokes, I’m spreading my precum with my fingers. It gives me an idea, and I abandon him just for a moment to gather the thin liquid with my other hand before I push into him again. Hrishi snarls my name, and the added lubrication allows me deeper access to his fantastic body. I match pace with my thrusts, imagine fucking Hrishi with my cock, and the moment his motion falters I come over his back in three quick and sticky bursts. I push my fingers hard against his prostate and Hrishi’s body clamps down tighter than a vice around my fingers, and I feel each pulse of his orgasm as his cock jerks in his hand.

I collapse against the wall as he turns to me, both our chests heaving.

“You always sneak up on guys you like and sexually assault them in the bathrooms?” he says with a broad smile.

I smirk as I respond.

“Only you.”

*

Saturday morning the sky is battleship grey and the air heavy with impending rain. I wake abysmally early, and unable to go back to sleep, lie in bed staring at the blank expanse of the ceiling. Hrishi is coming over tonight, and I have to somehow get through a whole day without exploding. Last night after dinner I drove to the big shopping centre outside of town where I don’t know anyone and bought condoms and lube whilst trying not to blush. Now, their presence in my nightstand is all I can think about.

Hrishi told me I was brave, thanked me with his tongue, and kissing made us both so late for our next classes we practically missed them. On the way out of the bathroom, he gave me the sexiest smile and told me I was a good person. I was back in the music department when my phone buzzed with his text.

_Sat night, rock star. Gonna rock ur wrld._

There are far too many hours to waste between now and the time Hrishi will be here, and I’m far too tense. Picturing my fingers sliding in and out of his beautiful arse and hearing his growl in my ear, I remember what we did in the bathroom. I don’t need pornography to achieve orgasm; Hrishi in my head is better than any external fantasy could be.

Afterwards, I shower, standing in the steam for a lot longer than necessary, then pull on a pair of sweats before slipping out the back door and into the garden. I don’t remember the last time I saw anyone other than the contracted gardening staff out here. We have a huge rolling green lawn, ornamental shrubs and bushes I don’t know the names of, and a vine and creeper covered archway over a cobblestone path. I’m sure I remember my mother bragging about how the stones were imported from some special granite mine in the Cotswolds; she was incredibly proud of how much they’d cost. I reach the end of the path and turn to look back at the house. I can still pick out my old bedroom window, a place I haven’t slept in since I was a little kid. I think my father turned it into a home gym I doubt anyone has ever used; I haven’t been up there in years. Part of me wonders if I ever will.

I have no idea if my parents are home. I got a text from my mother when she returned back from her latest excursion, nothing from dad, and fuck-all from either of them since. Apparently, talking to me is too much effort for them to deal with. There are lights on in the main house, but it could be nothing, or it could be cleaners. I’ve lost track of which cars my parents drive, there are several parked out front, but my silver seventeenth birthday present Mercedes-Benz sits alone next to the east wing door. I’ve not felt this lonely in a long time. It starts to drizzle, and I wander back inside, fetch my Baby Taylor off the wall, and fall flat on my back on the bed with the travel guitar over my abdomen.

There’s nothing else to do until Hrishi gets here, so I compose and play until my fingers are sore.

*

“Nice to see you made an effort for me.” Hrishi stands in my doorway looking adorable as he hangs up his jacket and smooths tiny drops of moisture from his dark hair. “Do you not own a brush?”

With my guitar still in my lap, I straighten up and smile at him. The whole day has vanished past me, and I have barely moved. A day’s worth of not eating has been good to my abs. I lay the Baby Taylor aside, showing off.

“Oh, Marty….” Hrishi takes his time unlacing his shiny leather shoes before he crosses the room and runs his fingers through my hair. “What did you do, shower and just laze around afterward?”

“I wrote,” I reply with a shrug.

“You singing about me again?” I can’t read his expression one little bit, but since I’m lying to everyone else in my life who’s talking to me, I’d rather not lie to Hrishi too. I just nod. “Can I hear it?”

“Now?”

Hrishi picks up the guitar by its slim neck and lays it aside on the floor gently.

“Maybe later. C’mere, rock star.” Hrishi settles his weight over my lap. I can feel the heat of his body through my single layer of clothing, and it occurs to me I should have maybe dressed up, or at least actually dressed. Hrishi doesn’t seem to mind much, and he’s already mussed up my hair enough that I’m glad not to have bothered styling it. “You going to go blond like this guitar?”

“Ha! I don’t play gigs with the Taylor….” I doubt Hrishi wants to discuss the technical aspects of my extensive collection of musical instruments. “Missed you.”

“Mmmm….” Hrishi’s fingers tighten in my hair suddenly and painfully, and he twists my face upward, dodges the kiss I want to take, and nips at the taut skin over my jugular. I moan as his teeth graze down my neck, allow him to grab my wrists, then smile as he pulls them over my head and pushes me down onto the mattress. Hrishi bites deep into the muscle of my inner arm, and I know I’m going to have another dark bruise, which will last for days. The thought makes my cock instantly hard, and he notices. “You did miss me.”

“Hell, I don’t need to miss you for that to happen,” I scoff, “I get excited the moment you walk in the damn room.”

“Is that so?”

“You know it is.” I buck underneath him, grinding my crotch into the weight of him straddling my lap. Hrishi grins happily.

“Good.” He jumps up and I groan at the sudden chill his absence leaves. “Strip.”

“I’m hardly wearing anything.”

“And it’s still too much. Strip,” Hrishi commands. I feel helpless but to follow through, so I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my sweats and drop them to the floor. I kick the material away and stand there naked in front of him. “On your knees, rock star.”

There must be something pretty seriously wrong with me, because a chill shiver crawls up my spine as I kneel on the floor. I want to do whatever he wants, really rather desperately, and my erection is making my desires rather obvious. Hrishi steps forward without a word, opening his fly, then snarls as I raise my hands to his hips, so I drop them again and I take his cock between my lips eagerly. He’s already mostly hard and thickens quickly in my mouth. I suck in the way I’ve learnt he likes, pausing to run my tongue over the exposed head, and swallowing hard even though his glans pushing into the back of my throat make it impossible to breathe. I’m surprised when Hrishi pushes me off and steps away.

“Hey….” I make to grab him, but his dark eyes meet mine, and I realise how close to the edge I’ve brought him. Hrishi’s chest is heaving hard, and his dark skin is flushed.

“Get on the bed.”

I scramble to obey him, and my brain pauses to wonder where I left my free will. As soon as I sit, Hrishi kneels over me and wraps his fingers tight around my leaking erection.

“What do you want?”

“Ahh!” I can barely form words. Hrishi’s lips are inches away, and I miss kissing him. I pant, supporting my weight on my elbows, unable to pull him closer. His whole body is tense, each muscle defined under his skin, and we’re both visibly shaking.

“Marty...” his voice is a low growl in my ear. I shiver, bite my lip to keep from moaning, and I know he can tell. “C’mon, Marty.” Hrishi’s lips are warm on my skin, his teeth nipping my earlobe. “Where’s that big cocky son-of-a-bitch who stands on stage and sings his heart out? You’re not scared of me, are you, rock star?”

“No.” The word feels like a lie in my mouth. I’m not scared of Hrishi, but I am terrified of what I want. I shouldn’t want him like I do, but dammit, I really do.

“Tell me what you want.” Hrishi fondles me gently, too gently, and I buck into his hand. I feel very out of control.

“I want you.”

“And how do you want me, Marty?” Hrishi smiles at me, and I wonder if it would be possible to resist anything he wants me to do. “Marty.” Hrishi presses closer, his fingers warm and tight around my cock until I’m fighting for breath.

He’s going to make me say it. I can’t possibly ask him for what I want, I don’t even know how I could ask him. There aren’t any words for the sense of urgency and desire I feel when he talks to me in that tone which brooks no argument. I love being at his mercy, but I can’t possibly ask him that. He’s going to make me beg for the privilege of fucking him, and he’s going to enjoy every single damn second if it. And so am I. Knowing this makes me so embarrassed: it’s a wonder I have enough blood left to maintain an erection.

“I want to fuck you.”

“Is that right?” Hrishi is so obviously enjoying himself, and it’s such a turn on. I’m a twisted bastard, I must be. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

“I want to fuck you.” It’s the same words, but now I’m begging. “Please, Hrishi, let me fuck you.”

“Good boy,” Hrishi purrs as he fondles my genitals. I can feel the heat radiating off him, so close to my skin but not yet touching. “You want me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it.” I know exactly what he means, what he wants me to say. I don’t want to, I shouldn’t want to, but I want to have him turn me inside out and dominate me in ways I never even fantasied about before. It’s all I can do to keep from whining in need. I’ve never been so hard in my life.

“I want your ass.”

“What do you want to do with it?” He bites my throat and my chest between each word; every touch makes me jump.

“I want….” even in my head, I sound like a slut, and I hate that I love it. “I want to fill your ass with my cock.” I want to, over and over again, but I’m not in control any more. I don’t know if I ever was.

“Good. Stay there, rock star.” Hrishi gets up and goes to my nightstand, like he just knew he’d find what he wants in there. When turns back to me, I haven’t moved a muscle, and his smile is broad and possessive. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Just lie right there, Marty.”

“OK.”

He runs his hands up my abs then rakes his short nails down my sides, making me shudder involuntarily. I shouldn’t be lying on my back, but my cock twitches when Hrishi breathes on me, all hot and moist and I groan his name. Hrishi places a kiss at the base of my shaft, then hands me the lube as he tears open the foil packet with his slender fingers.

“You know what to do.”

I am incredibly grateful that I have indeed spent enough time with my eyes glued to the computer screen and my hand down my trousers to be confident of my actions. Only breathing really hard stops my hands from shaking as I apply the cold lube generously to my fingers. I gulp as I reach between Hrishi’s parted thighs, and under his nuts to the hidden warmth of his crack. The moment I touch him, he rolls the condom over the head of my cock, and I stop.

“Keep going,” Hrishi growls as he sheathes my erection in one slick movement. I have no choice, and no free will at all, so I use my other hand to part the smooth globes of his arse, pressing my lubricated fingers against his entrance. He flicks my nipple, making me gasp, and I respond by pushing into his body.

I know from everything I’ve read that I need to stretch him out if this is to be fun for both of us. I don’t dare ask how long it’s been for him, though I figure it must have been a while, since we’ve been fucking around but not actually fucking for a good few months now. Hrishi rocks into my hand, fondling my balls with one hand while the other plays with my nipples in turn. My cock bobs with every motion, hard and desperate to be surrounded by the heat of his body, but when I go to rub his g-spot, Hrishi pulls off me with a lewd noise. I want to pull him back, but very quickly he has my wrists pinned back to the bed.

“Stay right there. No touching.”

“What?” I want to run my hands all over his body, but Hrishi’s eyes are dark.

“No touching,” he repeats, “not until I tell you.” Hrishi wraps his hand around the base of my dick and squeezes, making me moan.

“What do you want?” he asks again.

“I want to fuck your fine and perfect ass,” I declare passionately.

“Good boy,” Hrishi purrs, impaling himself in one smooth motion on my cock. I see stars.

It’s the first time I ever have sex, and it’s fucking awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	11. 11

Hrishi slaps my arse as I pass by the desk and smile as I hand him the glass of water.

“You should be naked more often,” he says in an appreciative tone. “I like it when you’re not so shy.”

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had the desire to put on clothes, but since Hrishi won’t let me wear boxers, and I don’t know if I have any clean sweats, I’ve stayed naked. It’s not like it’s cold in my room. I stand by the big picture window, which looks out over the garden and twitch the curtain aside with one hand.

“It’s raining.”

“No shit. Got any other important observations to share, Marty?”

I glance back at him.

“You have the most fantastic arse.”

Hrishi wiggles his butt at me in response, and I feel my cock jerk and swell softly. It’s been a couple of hours since we had sex, but I know I could go again. Never in all my frequent fantasies had I imagined that anal sex could be so fucking fantastic. Hrishi rode me like some kind of god, demanding my orgasm before I was really ready for it; I loved feeling powerless underneath him. Only after I’d come inside the super tight sheath of his body did he allow me to touch him, and then he groaned and writhed like a snake until our eyes met and he came all over my hand and chest. He told me I was beautiful painted with his cum, and it made me feel amazing.

“What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from failing computing,” Hrishi replies curtly. “After all, class won’t be nearly so much fun if you actually get yourself kicked from the course. “

“Oh, so you like showing me up in front of your nerd friends?” I arch an eyebrow at him, but Hrishi is focussed on the screen. I take the opportunity to sweep my eyes down the smooth planes of his back, only slightly hidden by his hair. My hair was a sweaty mess when we finished fucking; somehow, his is still silky smooth and perfect.

“You do make it incredibly easy, Marty.”

“What the hell have you got in common with them anyhow?”

Hrishi flips me off with one hand still typing with the other.

“Cerebral conversation? OW!” Hrishi scowls and whips around, because I’ve just thrown my journal at him clipping him on the shoulder. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I am not stupid, Hrishi!” I’m not shouting, but my voice is tight with anger. “You keep pretending I’m thick as shit, but you’re the one who’s here spending time with me. No one forced you.”

“Certainly not you…” he mutters.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, rock star.” Hrishi’s use of my pet name does nothing to soothe the acid in his voice. “You’ve had a go at me for not sticking up for myself, but you’re the one too scared to come out to his friends. I suppose you don’t fancy being pushed around like us geeky low-lifes, but you’re still letting yourself be shoved in the closet.”

“I don’t have a choice!” I don’t want to think about how quickly my life will dissolve if my parents find out their son is anything less than perfect.

“You could choose to be a stronger person than you are now,” Hrishi snaps.

“Right back at you.”

“Fuck you, Marty.”

“It’s not my turn,” I growl as I step forward. For the smallest moment, uncertainty wavers across Hrishi’s perfect features, the anger in his eyes warring with a mix of lust, fear, and desire. He stands just in time not to fall to the floor as I yank my desk chair out from underneath him. I sit down heavily. “Go back to your damn code.”

“Technically,” Hrishi keeps his voice deliberately light, “it’s your code.”

“I can’t fucking read that. Is that Java?”

“Have you been asleep for the past year?” he sounds incredulous. “We’re on compliers, you can’t use a scripting language. This is C plus plus.”

“Teach me?” I offer.

“And where am I supposed to sit?”

I arch an eyebrow at him, my grin smug and self-confident. We both flick our eyes to my lap and the ready length of my erection in unison. Hrishi doesn’t say anything, but simply walks to my nightstand, grabs another condom and the lube. I ready myself as he bends over my desk, fingers already back on the keyboard, tapping away with a speed I find rather intimidating. I can transition from chord to chord faster than Leon, but I have no idea what's flowing out from Hrishi's fingertips. I spread lube over my latex covered cock and take his hips in both hands, guiding him onto my lap firmly.

Hrishi gasps, his fingers stilling on the keyboard as I breach him, and I can feel his chest heaving. I bring him down until my whole length is buried in the tightness of his body; with his balls resting on mine, I pull his knees apart then over my thighs and spread my legs. He moans suddenly, tries to pull away, but my fingers are hard at his waist, keeping him pinned. The sensation of being surrounded by Hrishi's body is one I am entirely certain I'll never get used to.

"Keep typing," I growl in his ear as I shift my hips, rocking inside him a tiny bit deeper than I have before. "Or am I being too distracting?"

"You cocky bastard."

I reply by shoving my dick so far inside him I can no longer form words, and Hrishi gasps, gripping my desk with both hands. I spread the perfect mounds of his arse, push gently at him to raise his body away from my cock a little, and then bring him down again with a groan of my own. He feels fucking fantastic, and the sight of my cock sliding in and out of his dark flesh makes my toes curl.

"No wonder nothing you write ever works." Hrishi gasps in between words as I continue to fuck him, my pace steady and slow. "You haven't separated your comments or used any semi-colons."

"Are they important?" I ask without caring. I can see the screen over his shoulder, but I'm far more interested in the bobbing length of his untouched erection. Every time I plough into him his dick twitches invitingly. There is a bead of clear precum at the tip; as soon as I see it, I want him more.

"Every line... ungh... has to end with one." Hrishi is putting a lot of effort into keeping both hands on the keys. I kiss his shoulder, bite without force at the smooth joint of his neck, and bury my nose in his hair. I love the way he smells. "Look."

I force my eyes back to the computer screen, expecting to not understand anything, but there, in the command line of my code, is something I can comprehend.

touch(me);

I obey him instantly and am rewarded with Hrishi's high-pitched moan of pleasure. I've never heard him make that sound before; he's been far too busy telling me what to do. And he still is.

if(Hrishi.MoaningFrequency() <= perSecond(1))

{

Marty.increaseStrokeSpeed(10);

}

I chuckle in his ear and move my hand along the length of his cock, smearing precum down his length, and pumping my fist in time with the short thrusts of my hips. I spread my knees further as Hrishi thumps the desk with one hand and groans something which might have been my name. I bring him back against my body with a hand splayed over his chest, and he growls.

"Am I doing well?" I purr as he grabs my hair painfully hard, bringing my lips down onto his shoulder once more. I keep my eyes on the screen as he types one handed.

Marty.stampWith(hickey());

I bite him hard, sucking on his skin until my tongue tingles and his moaning is more pain than pleasure. I continue to jack his cock, tilting my hips to reach his prostate with my dick as I pull up enough blood under his dark skin to leave him with a bruise he'll wear for days. I look up as he leaves his comments in my code.

Marty.stampWith(hickey()); //good boy

Enough typing. I pull him away from the computer, lean back in the chair bringing him with me, and use the new angle to piston myself again and again into the tight sheath of his arse. Hrishi grips my forearm hard enough to leave crescent shaped welts in my skin, and holds tight to my hair as I pant against his neck. I am so close, but I want to make him come first. I jerk him furiously, my whole body tense, my arm a blur, and then he's gasping my name, snarling as I place my fingertips against his slit. His body clenches around me like a fist. Hrishi comes in my hand, thick and warm, and as I raise my arm to taste him, he snatches my wrist and shoves my fingers down his throat.

I gasp, caught completely off guard. Though I know it's only my hand he is sucking on like his life depends on it, the thought of him tasting his cum on me, and that I'm filling him up in every way I can, makes me lose all self control. I thrust into him once, twice, and come in the space between heartbeats, groaning wordlessly against his skin, and holding him as tight as I can against my flesh. The details of him: his long silky hair, strong back, the dark bruise on his shoulder, his perfect arse impaled on my cock, and the way his legs quiver as they drape around my own, sear themselves into my mind. I am never going to be able to forget this image as long as I live.

We pant in tandem for what seems like forever then Hrishi shifts his weight, and I inhale in shock and sensation as he pulls himself off me. He reaches between his legs to remove the condom from my spent member and then drops it in the bin as he settles himself down once more on my lap. I wrap my arms tight around his ribs being careful not to squeeze too hard. His pulse hammers against my skin; we’re still both breathing too fast. Hrishi rubs my thigh gently then scoots us both forward and begins to type like I hadn’t just interrupted his coding to fuck him thoroughly.

I can’t help myself and burst out laughing.

“Shut up or I’ll leave the comments in,” he threatens gently. Once his attention is back on the computer, I kiss the nape of his neck and smooth my hands over his shoulders and back. After a few passes he is purring softly. “Mmmmm…. I forget, sometimes, how good you are with your hands.”

“Is that all I’m good for?” I mumble.

Hrishi twists in my lap and kisses me soundly. I love the way he tastes.

“You also have the world’s most enormous shower.” He presses a few buttons on the computer, and it starts to do something complicated looking. “It’ll take a while to compile. C’mon Marty.”

I cannot argue as he takes my hand and drags me towards my bathroom. Having a long shower, together, sounds like an excellent idea.

*

“Try this.”

“What is it?”

“A pakora.” Hrishi rolls his eyes at my suspicion of the new food. “Delicious vegetables deep fried in spicy batter. You’ll like it.”

I arch an eyebrow at him, and he sighs.

“Not spicy like the chilli was. I promise.”

“That was mean.” I actually had to venture into the main house to get a four-pint of milk and drink the whole thing to stop my mouth from throbbing painfully. At Hrishi’s command, I took my clothes off as soon as I returned.

“Sorry.” Hrishi gives me a small smile, leans forward and plants an open kiss on my lips. It’s the best apology I’ve ever had. I take the morsel from his fingers with my tongue and chew thoughtfully.

“It’s good.”

“Try one with the pickle.”

The pickle is even better. I grab a naan bread and get to work demolishing the remaining pickle until Hrishi grabs it away. We fight good-naturedly over the food discovering that lime pickle flavoured kisses are equally awesome. Trading more food and kisses until there is nothing left, Hrishi is perched practically back in my lap tracing oily fingerprints on my chest.

“Do you shave?”

“Huh?”

“You must do. No one has such smooth skin….”

“You do.”

“I’m Indian, I’m just blessed.” Hrishi plays with my fringe, rocking it backwards into a little quiff, which doesn’t stay put. “You’re really beautiful, Marty.”

“You’re being nice to me.” I frown gently at him, but rub the pad of my thumb over his lips. I like him being nice to me, but I know how quickly we both dissolve into argument. “It’s... different.”

“Good different?”

“Yeah.” I lean forwards to kiss him, but my lips miss his. Hrishi is gazing over my shoulder. I turn to see the Baby Taylor and my journal lying on the floor. “Hrishi?”

“Hmmm?”

I love the way he sounds distracted, so I lick the deep bruise I’ve stamped him with.

“Would you like me to play for you?”

“I thought you weren’t a self-centred rock star?”

“But you said you kinda like that,” I muse softly.

“Yes please.” Hrishi extracts himself from my arms, stoops to pick up my journal and is about to take the Baby Taylor by the neck when I stop him.

“Not that one. Get the Epi.”

“Huh?”

“The Epiphone hummingbird,” I sigh, “the red one. No, no, the other red one.” I jerk my head to the left indicating my favourite acoustic guitar, which Hrishi brings to me, leaving the candy apple red Stratocaster I never play any more hanging on the wall. “Come back and sit with me.”

I love the way Hrishi is small enough to fit into my lap and still allow free access to the strings as I pin him against my chest with the guitar across his front. He doesn’t try and touch the strings, just curves his fingers under the glossy wooden body of the guitar, caressing the shape gently as I sing for him. I like my voice this way, soft and smooth, without the raised volume of the microphone and the amps, and I strum each chord in time with our out of synch heartbeats. I never thought I’d sing to someone like this, singing about him unashamedly while he sits in my lap. It’s not a love song, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

I’m preparing to pluck at the strings in the space between the last verse and the final chorus when I’m distracted by a soft sound. I glance up from my perfect view over Hrishi’s naked shoulder to the body of my guitar, and find Leon standing in the doorway: absolutely drenched, guitar case in hand, mouth gaping.

“What the actual fuck?”

“Oh shit!” I wonder how much of Hrishi is covered by the Hummingbird. Enough not to be indecent, but it’s way too obvious that we’re both naked.

“FUCK!” Leon shouts properly this time. He’s still rooted to the spot, staring at us, and I’m really not sure how either of us could move without making the whole situation worse. I wish I could hide behind Hrishi’s hair while I try and figure out some sort of explanation which doesn’t end up with my best friend swearing at me and never speaking to me again.

To my intense shock, it’s Hrishi’s voice, which resounds calmly across the room.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?”

“What?” Leon’s snap gives away his temper, but Hrishi doesn’t even flinch.

“If you’d be so good as to just walk back the way you came, we can both get some clothes on in privacy.”

“Fucking hell, Marty.” Leon gapes at me, but now I actually am hiding behind Hrishi’s hair. “Marty!”

“Just… Leon, seriously, turn the fuck around or something will you?”

My oldest friend and bandleader’s huff of annoyance is palpable. Hrishi takes the guitar gently from my hands and strides across the room, still completely at ease in his skin. He gathers up his clothes and returns to kiss me where I sit.

“I’m going to go take a shower. OK, rock star?”

“Er… yeah.” I snatch up my sweats as Hrishi closes the door to the bathroom, and yank one of our band t-shirts on over my head as Leon spins back to face me. He glares after Hrishi.

“Fucking faggot.”

“Hey!” I snap at him, “don’t call him that.”

“It’s fucking true though.”

“Shut the hell up, Leon. Or are you going to say that to me next?”

Surprisingly, Leon shuts his mouth and wanders over to my desk collapsing heavily on my desk chair . I decide it’s best not to tell him what we’ve already done on it.

“You and him?”

“Yeah.” I wonder if Leon is being dense deliberately, or has his brain actually just bleached what he witnessed from his memory.

“Are you…?”

“You just walked in on me naked with another guy,” I remind him coldly. “That might be the world’s most pointless question.”

“I….” Leon drops his guitar case on the floor with a very loud thud. He’s never careless with his instruments. “I….” No other words make it past his lips, and he turns and walks out into the pouring rain once more. I stare after him until Hrishi returns fully dressed and steaming softly.

“He’s not alright, is he?”

“No.”

“You OK, rock star?”

“Don’t know,” I reply without meeting his eyes. “He’s my oldest friend, Hrishi.”

“You’d best go fix him then. I’m going to call myself a cab.”

“Hrishi….” I don’t want to face the idea of him leaving, but I don’t know if I can divide my attention between the pair of them.

“Don’t sweat it. See you Monday.”

I wait long enough to watch Hrishi leave, swept away into the rain, then walk through the torrential downpour to where Leon sits in partial shelter under an ornamental weeping willow. Years ago I gave Leon a code for the gate though he doesn’t always use it, and I wonder if my phone was on silent, or if I was just too distracted to notice my best friend trying to contact me. I sink down in the grass beside him and lean back against the rough trunk, being careful not to let our shoulders touch.

“You know,” I begin gently, “we could have this conversation indoors where it’s not so wet.”

“Marty….”

“We probably could have handled that better, but I didn’t figure on you walking in like that either.”

“Marty.”

“And he’s rude to everyone, don’t take it personally-. Ow!” I drop my sentence mid flow as Leon punches me hard in the shoulder with one bony fist. “What was that for?”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“About Hrishi? Shit, dude… I don’t think there is even a word for what we are to each other.”

Leon rolls his eyes and scowls.

“Not him. Why didn’t you tell me about you? That you’re gay.”

“Oh….” My heart sinks like a bass beat. I’ve hated lying to him about a lot of things, but this is something I’ve kept from everyone. Leon is still waiting for an answer, looking disappointed in me, and I snap.

“Well, why do you need to be such a homophobic jerk all the time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.
> 
> Whilst you would obviously need various other objects defined within the parameters of the program, the C++ code used is indeed accurate and would, technically, work. Our husband the software engineer was coerced into writing it for us.


	12. 12

Leon blinks rain out of his eyes, and then hides behind his hands for a brief moment.

“This is a conversation which desperately needs whiskey. Are you still gonna let me in your house?”

“Are you sure you want to?” I growl nastily, “after all, a _faggot_ does live there.”

“Don’t say that,” Leon mutters, and I wonder why it always seems the rule for me is different from everyone else; he’s called other people that plenty of times. “Come on, I’m fucking soaked.”

It’s his fault we’re both shivering and dripping on returning to the East wing. I hand Leon a fresh towel, and for a moment, I wonder how he’s going to react now that he knows about me, but Leon pulls off his shirt and jacket and throws the towel over his head like nothing’s changed. We’re similarly enough sized that my lounging around clothes fit him fine, and he takes a pair of my sweats whilst I change into pyjama pants and a hoodie. I stuff my hands into my pockets and sit on my bed while Leon goes to the freezer, takes out the whiskey and pours two very large measures into a pair of tumblers.

“Cheers.” He knocks his glass into mine as soon as I take it from him, then downs about half the amber liquid in one long gulp. “Why did you lie to me, Marty? You’re my best friend.”

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair and feeling the warm burn of the whiskey as I sip. It’s not that we’ve bypassed the revelation I’m gay, but I know how much it hurts to be lied to, and I hate I’ve done it to him.

“It’s not like you’ve given me much choice, Leon.” I glance up at him as he settles back on my desk chair. “Every time I’ve thought I might tell you, you go shooting your mouth off. I’m not coming out just so you can ridicule me and kick me out of the band.”

Leon drains his drink and pours another.

“You seriously think I’d drop you for being gay?”

“Well wouldn’t you?” I sneer. “You have any idea how often you drop homophobic slurs casually into conversation?” It’s gotten far worse over the last couple of years. I can’t remember Leon being this bad back when we were still at school. He looks at me levelly over the top of his glass, and then puts it down with a very careful motion.

“No… yes. Yeah, I do.”

“Seriously? Then why the fuck do you do it? Do you even believe what you’re saying?”

“Sometimes,” he admits unhappily.

“That’s fucking embarrassing, dude.” We sit silently for a while. I drink slowly, Leon stares at the guitar studded wall behind me with his eyes unfocused as though seeing something else in his head. “Why do you do it, Leon?”

“It’s….” Leon looks like he’s going to be sick, but he covers his grimace with more whiskey. “You remember the band I wanted us to open for on that tour?”

I do. We’d all just taken the last of our exams, we had a whole summer free of responsibility before college started, and a band we all thought were shit-hot had needed a local act to open their shows. Nothing huge, maybe three hundred people each night, but we were excited. We tried out for them, just four boys trying not to show how nervous we were, and then Jerome, Aaron, and I had sat in Jerome’s dad’s van waiting while Leon spoke with the other frontman. I could picture him now as he watched us perform. He was sort of Latino looking; a skinny, but powerful guy with long black hair, and leather trousers. We’d been full of nervous energy and hope when Leon climbed back into the van; and bitterly disappointed when he told us the band had gone with another act.

“He was going to give us the gig.” Leon takes a really deep breath before he continues. “The band liked us, thought we were talented and offered us three nights and four hundred bucks. I was so stoked, it was the break we’d been hoping for. Then that guy, Tommy, put his hand on my shoulder and asked me to follow him into some little back room.”

“Leon….” I have an awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me where this is going. I don’t want to hear it, but Leon doesn’t take any notice. I’m not the only one who’s been holding onto secrets.

“He told me if we really wanted the gig, I was going to have to….” He gulps, screws his eyes shut, fists clenched in his lap. “’Put my pretty little mouth to use’.” Leon makes finger quotes in the air, even though he’s not looking at me. “Said it was the only way we were going to get the job. I had to prove how much we wanted it.”

“Fuck,” I exhale the word shakily. I don’t want to ask the question, but the words are already lodged in my throat, and I know I have to. I don’t want to think of my best friend in the dark being told to blow some guy for a shot on stage. “Did… did he force you?”

“No. I got away.” The relief in Leon’s voice is palpable.

“I’m sorry, Leon.”

“Ain’t your fault.”

“You know that guy wasn’t gay right?” Leon frowns at me, and I trip over myself to explain. “I mean him being gay has nothing to do with the fact he was obviously a colossal douche. You could have reported him y’know?”

“I’m wasn’t gonna put you all through that.” Leon scuffs his shoes as he stands up. “Sorry I walked in on you and…?”

“Hrishi.” I supply gently.

“Yeah. Seriously, though… he’s the one who does it for you?”

God, but he does. I shiver involuntarily.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.” Leon picks up his guitar case and turns towards the door.

“You’re going?” I frown at him.

“Well I didn’t figure you’d want me to hang around after I interrupted you boys….”

“Leon!” My oldest friend thinks he just walked in on me having sex; as though I could keep my fingers in the right places on the fret board with that going on. “I was just playing for him.”

“Is that the new song?”

“Solo performance piece for college,” I confirm with a nod. “You wanna hear it? I mean we may as well jam. You’re already here, it’s raining cats and dogs, and I ain’t letting you drive back like that.” I nod to the whiskey bottle on the floor, now seriously depleted. “It’s Saturday, let’s get drunk.”

I am pleased to discover despite everything we’ve just told each other, that once Leon and I are sitting across the corner sofa facing each other with our guitars, nothing seems to have changed at all. We work a delicious two-part harmony into my new song, something I won’t be able to use in performance but which is just for us, and he smiles as our eyes meet.

“I’m sorry, Marty.”

“I forgive you.”

“I’ll try harder.”

“Just don’t tell my parents.”

Leon scowls, and I expect he is easily able to envision the trouble my coming out would herald.

“I won’t. C’mon, let’s put your composing skills to use, I still haven’t even got half a song for my solo performance.”

*

Hrishi keeps me from not failing computing by a very small margin, and I’m sure the cocky son of a bitch is already crowing about that fact. As soon as my marked paper printouts arrive on my desk, dropped with disdain by the lecturer, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sneak a quick glance at the screen and try to cover my reaction by becoming intently interested in my compiler feedback. Hrishi has sent me a picture of his half-hard cock pinning a slip of paper with a question mark to his abdomen, and I already know at least one of us is going to be sweaty and moaning as soon as class ends. I’m not wrong, and I quite like thanking him from my knees while he pulls my hair. I swallow him down eagerly, and he smirks.

“Greedy.”

“I skipped breakfast.”

“Too busy jerking off in bed?” he enquires. I grab his arse with one hand as I stand and squeeze him appreciatively.

“You know exactly what I was busy doing.” Hrishi turned up on my doorstep and had me straddled, pushing himself onto my morning erection inside of sixty seconds. Apparently, waiting until we got to college was just too hard. “I can do it again if you’d like.”

“I’m going to be late to study group.”

“Fuck it,” I suggest. “C’mon, Hrishi….”

“You’ll just have to be patient.” Hrishi palms my erection through my jeans. “I’ll see you later.”

“You’re a jerk.”

Hrishi grabs my jaw, kisses me hard, his tongue down my throat, our teeth clacking painfully, and bites my lip hard as he pulls back.

“You love it. Be good, rock star.”

I glare after him as he slips out of the half-dark seminar room, the low light capturing the way his hips wiggle as he walks. Damn, but it’s so much fun. I’m still grinning when I reach the music common room and slump down between Leon and Jerome. The latter is playing his drum solo on his thighs.

“Where the fuck have you been, Marty? You were MIA all morning.” Jerome frowns at me. “You know we’re recording the demo today.”

“I know.” I really hope Hrishi doesn’t make me wait that long, because the idea of being stuck in the studio with an iron bar in my trousers isn’t nearly as attractive as it sounds. “I had computing.”

“Well, what took so long?”

I ignore Jerome’s question and glance at Leon. He is already wearing a knowing smirk and I grin. We both dissolve in a fit of giggles until I’m struggling to draw breath.

“You dirty fucker!” Leon bumps my shoulder with his own. “You’d better not be late to sound check.”

“I won’t.”

Aaron bounces up on the balls of his feet, a ukulele grasped in one hand. We each raise an eyebrow at his approach.

“You chose to perform your solo on _that_?”

“Fuck you, Marty. Not everyone has access to your extensive collection of instruments.” Aaron kicks my boot without force. “I think it went OK. Please tell me one of you has food.” Jerome passes a packet of crisps to our usually calm bassist. “You’re up next, cocksucker.”

Leon reaches out and smacks him upside the head.

“Shut up, Aaron!”

“Don’t sweat.” I stand, brushing down my shirtfront, and grin at my band mates. “After all, it is an accurate description.” They gape at me. “Wish me luck, boys.”

Leon is the only one who says anything, and I know the moment I’m out of sight they’ll be drilling him with questions. It might not have been the smartest way to come out to the guys I spend almost all my time with, but it’s certainly better than letting them walk in on me naked.

Whilst Jerome will have to use the standard drum kit, being a guitarist means I can choose my instrument. Because it was the guitar I played with Hrishi, I hook the Hummingbird over my shoulder as I enter the big practice room, which is being used as the assessment area for the solos. A panel of our lecturers await, along with a trainee teacher who sometimes takes us for soundboard, and one other member of the faculty I don’t recognise. She’s wearing a suit, and hardly looks the music type. I settle myself on the waiting chair and watch them spreading my music out on the table for examination. The session recorder is already rolling, and I clear my throat as my name and student number are recited.

“So, is there a title for this piece?” I can see the head of department frowning at my scrawl. The music is clear as day, but my handwriting is generally appalling.

“Yes.” I strum the first chord just to check all is well. The Hummingbird sings beautifully. “This is _Confidant_.”

“Proceed.”

I smile down at my guitar, imagining the space in my lap where Hrishi sat while I sang to him, the feel of his smooth skin against mine, his pulse felt through his back. It’s not the sort of song the band would ever play, but I’m glad someone gets to hear it.

*

“Again.”

“Again?” Aaron groans, almost dropping his bass. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Leon snaps from the mixing booth. “It’s fucking pitchy as shit.”

“We’ve only got another hour left in the studio,” Jerome reminds us with a scowl.

I glare at him through the viewing panel of the demo booth where I’ve been laying down lead guitar parts, which have been screwed over every time by one of the others messing up. “If you could concentrate for more than sixty seconds, we might have finished a four minute song by now!”

Leon arches an eyebrow, but nods, and we turn back to our instruments and microphones.

“Again,” he snaps.

In the middle of another argument where we should be playing the bridge, my phone buzzes, and I duck out of the studio. Hrishi’s text is blank, and I frown at my phone.

“Hey, rock star.” Hrishi breathes against the back of my neck. “You look tense.”

“Studio day,” I reply sulkily. “We’re recording the demo.”

“I know.” It surprises me Hrishi keeps accurate tabs on my schedule, but it shouldn’t; we’ve been doing this for months. “Come with me.”

There is a little workroom with a solid door I must have walked past a dozen times and never noticed before. No one’s in there, and Hrishi wedges a chair under the door handle the moment we’re inside.

“I mustn’t be long,” I mutter softly.

“You’ll last as long as I want you to, Marty.” Hrishi growls in my ear like a tiger, and I quiver helpless to resist him. “Now come over here and be useful.”

I do as I’m bid, wrap my arms around Hrishi’s chest and kiss the back of his neck as he turns around in the cage I have made at his command. He pushes his butt against me with deliberate suggestion. Not until recently have I been the kind of guy to carry condoms and single use packets of lube, just in case. We both get just naked enough, and I push Hrishi’s shirt up under his armpits wanting to explore his chest with his spine pressed against my sternum. He wiggles his naked arse against me again.

“Really?” We’ve never done it like this, even though I’ve come against his back a bunch of times. Hrishi likes to ride me, and I love to be his steed. My cock twitches in anticipation and lust at the prospect.

“You ask too many damn questions.” Hrishi pulls my head over his shoulder and twists to bite my neck. “Shut up and fuck me like you mean it.”

These days, I’m practised in the quick motions of applying condom and lube to my aching erection. I’ve been half-hard for an hour or more, and Hrishi places his hands on a bare desk, presenting his beautiful arse for fucking. I enter him swiftly with a groan, wrap a hand over his chest and pull him back against me. He says nothing, but lets me fondle his cock with my other hand, jacking him in time with my thrusts just the way he likes. Hrishi groans, keeps his fingers carded into my hair, pinning me to his back as I pound his fantastic arse. His other hand comes to rest over mine, and then he’s taken over my motion, covering my fingers and fucking my fist. I groan against his shoulder.

“C’mon, rock star, you can do better than that.” Hrishi’s voice sends my sense of self-control into hiding. “I know you want me.”

“Fuck….”

I push him forwards forcing him to let me go and use both his hands to support his weight over the desk. I grab his hips and pound into the tight sheath of his body again and again until I can barely remember my own name. He feels fantastic around me, indescribable, and I can’t get enough.

“Good boy.” Hrishi sounds almost calm, but there is a ragged edge to his voice he can’t hide. “Come for me. Now.”

I am a slave to his will, so I slam my hips against his and groan my orgasm out between gritted teeth. I want to fall panting against his back and dissolve into a spineless puddle of post-orgasmic bliss, but Hrishi pulls himself off me so suddenly it’s very nearly painful, rubs himself against me, and then he’s coming over my abs and crotch. I’m a mess, and I don’t care.

We kiss for what feels like hours.

“Feel better now, rock star?”

“You’re amazing.” I nuzzle his hair, taking in his scent. I’ve still no idea how it is he smells so damn good. “That was awesome.” I breathe deeply. “Yeah, I feel much better. Thanks.”

“Told you I wouldn’t leave you hanging.” Hrishi wipes his cum away with the tail end of my shirt. Hopefully, my guitar will hide it; I don’t have a spare. “See you later?”

“The band’s going out.” I smile at him, considering my next question. “You want to join us?”

“No thanks,” Hrishi replies with a kiss. “You musicians are so boring when you talk shop. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

As Hrishi straightens his clothes, I brush his hair with my fingers.

“I’ll be thinking about you naked,” I say cockily.

He grins broadly, his hand on the door knob.

“I already am. Bye, Marty.”

I head back to the studio and snatch up my blue Gibson from where I left it waiting during our last failed run through of the song which someday, might get us noticed. Jerome and Aaron are at each other’s throats, though the drum kit and several microphones physically divide them.

“Just stick to your fucking job!”

“Maybe we should trade you for someone who can actually shitting play!”

Leon looks haggard.

“Boys, boys….” I open my hands in a gesture of peace. “Why don’t we take it through from the top, altogether, just like we do at practice.”

“Marty….” Jerome stares at me, then frowns. “Well, where the fuck have you been?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I smirk. “C’mon lads, let’s show our instruments who’s boss.”

Leon picks up his white Telecaster, the match of my own at home, and he counts us in for the first notes of _Black Eyed Boy_ with a grin just the way he always does. Hrishi isn’t there, and I’m not singing lead vocals, it’s not my job, but as I join Leon for the chorus and the two part harmony in the bridge, I imagine him standing in the mixing booth, looking proud. Just this once, I’ll sing it for him, my black eyed boy who drives me wild and fights me for everything.

As the last note fades out, we smile at each other, four boys who are one band hoping to be stars, because we all know that was the one. We cut the demo, burn two-dozen CDs and save the master file to each of our flash drives and an external hard drive Leon has bought just for the occasion. Holding our song in my hand makes me feel important and more talented than I probably am.

“Shall we go drink then?” Leon suggests.

“For luck?” Jerome queries.

“Not luck, no.” I glance at my band, the guys I wouldn’t want to be without, and grin. “Let’s drink to victory!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready? And...... JUMP CUT
> 
> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


	13. 13

I doubt he realises I’ve noticed him. If he did, he’d probably stop, turn, and maybe smile. Maybe he’d look past me, not recognising my face at all. Surely, he can’t realise we’re both here in the same place once again.

It’s early for a Tuesday, too early to be drinking, but I’m too tired to go and explore the city. Being jet lagged is horrible, but at least this time we have some days off before we have to perform again. Next time the head-liner offers to take us on his private jet, I think I’ll decline and stick with the bus. Fancy leather seats and expensive champagne are no cure for a decent night’s rest. When we started out, I remember complaining sleep could not be had in a six-by-two foot bunk on board a tour bus, but these days, I can sleep anywhere. Anywhere, except on stage.

But here I am in the hotel bar, and there is he. Only in my most private fantasies have I dreamed of a moment like this; but, I have indeed dreamed.

“Hrishi.”

He stills, faces me, and then with that overwhelming confidence which always took my breath away, reaches out and fingers my now stark white fringe.

“Hey there, rock star. Looks good on you.”

“Thanks, I bought a Fano Standard SP-six to go with it.”

“Cocky bastard,” Hrishi replies with a grin, “then again, you always were.”

Without asking, I slide into the seat next to Hrishi, and as soon as I’ve ordered my drink, he steals it before the glass touches the bar. Bourbon on his lips looks good. He notices me staring and leans forward, bracing his hand on my knee, and kisses me. Underneath the alcohol, he still tastes just like he did six years ago when we were teenagers: spicy, sweet, savoury, and delicious. I want to find the source of that flavour and lap it up until none remains.

“How come you’re here?” I ask gently as our lips part.

“’Cause only rich white boys are allowed to get famous and travel the world?”

“Hrishi….”

“You were always terrible at taking a joke, Marty.” Hrishi sips his own drink with a gleeful smile. “Applied to Caltech, got in, got headhunted by a firm in Silicon Valley.”

“You still spending your free time illegally interrupting visual systems?”

“Ha!” Hrishi laughs dryly. “Actually, I design the stuff which stops that from happening.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and for tanks of all things. I ended up in the defence sector, though I’m still not sure how.” He looks at me levelly across the bar. “And you went and got famous.”

“We’re not that famous,” I mutter.

“Oh yeah, because three hundred thousand Twitter followers isn’t famous.” He jabs me in the shoulder; he’s still surprisingly strong. “It’s not like I forgot all about you after we left college, Marty.”

“Me neither.”

Six years ago and half a world away seems like forever. I try to remember the last conversation Hrishi and I ever had, and I hate that I can’t. We didn’t know the last time was going to be The Last Time until afterwards. Leon, Jerome, Aaron, and I sat in my room addressing envelopes long into the night, and sent our demo CD to every radio programmer and DJ we could find. Leon emailed every label we hoped might be interested, and we played every gig we could get. After a show, a man walked up to us, confirmed who we were, and the text Hrishi sent me went unanswered as we were told a breakfast show radio personality found our CD in a pile, played it for four and half million listeners, and a flood of emails arrived. After that, my life looked really different.

“I swear that song was on the radio every time I turned it on for months.” Hrishi smiles warmly. “You guys were suddenly everywhere.”

“You were, you mean.” I remind him gently. ‘Black Eyed Boy’ had turned into the hit everyone hoped it would be and that was enough to get us hitched as an opening act for a big tour all-round the country. We piggybacked for a while, sleeping in the world’s cheapest tour bus, before the universe brought fate and circumstance together with an offer to go to the States. We all bought our own tickets for economy class, and prayed none of our instruments got damaged or lost, on the promise there would be gigs waiting for us. And we’d not been disappointed.

“You never told anyone about me.” It’s not a question, and Hrishi takes my hand holding it in his lap, his skin smooth and warm against my guitar-induced callouses. “I read that article in the Telegraph about your rise to fame. They asked about the song, but you never said anything.”

“Ain’t for anyone else to know.” I take a deep breath. “It’s not like it’s a secret, my being gay, but we’re not a band who shares everything about our private lives. And anyway, people would always rather talk about Leon. It’s his band.”

“They’re your songs,” Hrishi reminds me gently. “You’re amazing.”

“Thank you.” Being near him is doing strange and painful things to my chest, familiar and glorious things to my crotch. I reach out and stroke his cheek and finger his hair. “You cut your hair.”

“How observant,” he replies sardonically.

“I never realised it was curly.” I rub the soft ringlets between my fingers, and Hrishi moves into my touch, just a little.

“I didn’t either, until after I had it all lopped off. Now I can’t do anything with it.”

“So much for your sleek sophisticated look,” I tease gently.

The man who would not look out of place with a pocket-protector and an abacus in one hand glares at me.

“And you spend how long, exactly, getting _that_ look together?”

I glance down at my clothes, straight leg black jeans, blue smoke patterned shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and grin. My tastes really haven’t changed since college.

“They’re just clothes.” I shrug. “Our stylist hates me just a little bit.”

“Well, that can’t be true.” Hrishi runs a bold finger down the front of my shirt pressing each button against my skin before moving south. I shiver under his touch, and he can feel it. “You must be pretty easy to dress.” He glances me up and down, his eyes hot. “I remember you being pretty easy to undress.”

I arch an eyebrow at him, but I don’t trust myself to speak. I’m going to say something really stupid in a moment if Hrishi doesn’t stop me. He hooks his forefinger into the lowest gap between my shirt buttons, and the moment his skin touches mine, my cock lurches uncomfortably in my jeans.

“You got a room in this swanky hotel, rock star?”

I nod.

“Do you reckon the bed is as comfortable as yours used to be?”

It takes us all of ten seconds to abandon our drinks and get to the elevator. I have a suite on the tenth floor, but the moment the doors swish closed, I have my hands in Hrishi’s curly hair, with my lips pressing against his. He opens up to my tongue and I pull him up against me, my arms linking round the small of his back as I invade his mouth. Hrishi groans, his fingers digging into my shoulders, one leg already wrapping around my hip. Neither of us notices the ping of the doors sliding open until there is a voice.

“Babe! Elevator’s here! Oh…!”

We break apart guiltily, Hrishi’s hand still in my shirt, his warm palm pressed against my abdomen. A couple of tourists are gaping at us, and as Hrishi apologises, I simply blush and drag him along towards my room. Once inside, Hrishi wriggles out of my grasp and stares slack-jawed at the lush interior of the suite.

“Fuck, I forget there are people who live like this….”

“I don’t _live_ like this,” I grumble gently, “this is just for when we get lucky on the road.”

“You sleep in a van the rest of the time?”

“Hey, don’t be hating on our bus.” I grin at the look of shock on his face. “It’s a damn sight nicer than the one we started out with. This one actually has a bedroom for each of us.”

“No shit?”

“Well, if by ‘bedroom’ you count a closet big enough for a single mattress… but we have doors. It’s privacy at least.” In the beginning, we used to draw straws to see who got the only bedroom on the bus; the rest of us had to settle in the bunks and make do. The arrangement only lasted as long as it took for the guys to start bringing dates back after shows. After that, it was almost never my turn to sleep in an actual bed unless we got lucky and were allowed to sleep in a hotel.

“I’m gonna bet this is much better.” Hrishi stands at the foot of the bed with his hands on his belt, and his dark eyes tell me everything I need to know. “Get over here, rock star.”

His kiss is hot and hard, full of teeth and tongue, and everything I’ve ever wanted. Hrishi yanks my shirt the rest of the way open, pushes it back over my shoulders pinning my arms by my sides, and runs his finger across my chest before abandoning my mouth. I inhale between my teeth as he licks a path down my throat and nips at my pec, before pressing his tongue hard against my nipple. Some things never change, and the action short-cuts directly to my groin. I whine in need; I haven’t made that noise in years.

“Got you going now, haven’t I, rock star?” Hrishi gloats against my skin. The sound of his fly opening is incredibly loud. “So, does singing to stadiums make you tired, or are you still good with your tongue?”

I don’t need any further encouragement and drop to my knees, not bothering to free my arms before I take him in my mouth. I run my tongue along his shaft then pull back, keeping the glans pinned with my lips, and flick my tongue over the slit until he growls in pleasure. I swallow him until I can’t breathe, and with the head of his cock lodged in my throat, nuzzle the smooth skin below his navel. Hrishi curls over my head, his whole body tense, gripping the back of my neck as he comes with a snarl.

“Fuck….” He staggers back, panting. “I’d very nearly forgotten how fucking good you are at that.”

“You taste amazing.” I take him in: the rise and fall of his chest, his hands shaking as he sinks onto my bed, the wide-eyed expression of lust and desire. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Hrishi.”

“Marty….”

He’s still not good at being given compliments, apparently. I stand, shrugging out of my shirt, showing off the effects of many hours spent at the gym trying to undo the terrible diet we all scoff on the road. I lean over him on the bed nuzzling at his hair and the join of his neck and shoulder.

“Your skin is so fucking smooth… and you smell wonderful. I’ve always loved the way you look.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I don’t give him any warning between nuzzling at his soft skin with my lips before my teeth sink in. His neck is smooth and warm, and I suck at his skin; pulling up a deep bruise as quickly and as fiercely as I can.

“Dammit, Marty!” Hrishi looks pissed. “What are they going to say at the office tomorrow?”

“I don’t care, wear a scarf.” I grin licking my lips, but Hrishi sits up and suddenly has me flat on my back, his fists pinning my wrists to the bed. I groan.

“Are you sure you wanna go down this road again, Marty?” His voice is low and rough in my ear, his breath superheated against my jaw and cheek. “Or did you get used to pretty boys who would do whatever you wanted?”

“No….” I manage between clenched teeth. Hrishi has my fly open, his deft slender fingers cupping under my balls, palming my already slick erection.

“What is it you want, rock star?”

“Ungh…!”

“C’mon Marty, you can do better than that.” Hrishi laps my throat making my Adam’s apple jump. He squeezes me tightly. “I see you never went back to wearing underwear. Still hoping I’ll jump you backstage, is that it?”

It is, but I don’t tell him so. I’ve fantasised about this, the possibility of this, off and on for the last six years.

“Please...” I groan.

“Please, what?”

I’m shaking, my breath uneven.

“Please let me fuck you. I want you so badly. Ahhh!” I gasp as Hrishi uses his thumb to press against my taint before his weight settles over me. My erection pushes excitedly towards his entrance.

“Good boy,” he practically purrs in my ear before sticking his tongue down my throat.

We kiss hurriedly, like we might be making up for lost time, and somehow manage to get entirely naked without letting go of each other. Hrishi is the one who gets a condom from my bag, tucked into my bathroom gear, hardly within easy reach. I haven’t had sex in longer than I like to remember, but he doesn’t say anything, simply tears open the foil packet and places a kiss on the tip before rolling the latex over my cock. He smears lube along my length with both hands, and I reach for him.

“Don’t touch.”

I growl in frustration, but Hrishi grins. Glowing with joy and confidence, he wraps his slender fingers around the base of my erection, and I can’t tear my eyes away as he slides himself onto me in one long smooth motion. When his balls rest against my abdomen, his eyes flick up to meet mine, and I really hope I’m not imagining the adoration I see in them. I have missed him. Hrishi pins my shoulders down on the mattress and dictates our pace, fucking himself on my shaft as I whimper underneath him. I want to slam my hips into him over and over until I can’t remember my own name, but I’m a slave to his will as he brings us both closer to the brink of pleasure by slow and tantalizing inches.

“Hrishi… please…!” I’m panting, my heart as loud as Jerome’s drums in my ears.

“Beg for it,” he snarls, leaning over me. His curly hair falls in our eyes, we’re both dripping sweat, and Hrishi’s lips are damp and open. I crane my neck to kiss him and am rewarded with the delicious heat of his lips as he thrusts himself back onto me again.

“Please,” I gasp the moment our kisses breaks, “please, let me come. I want to come inside you so much… pleasepleaseplease….”

Hrishi grins in triumph at my litany of wantonness. I don’t care if I sound like a slut, because it’s Hrishi, and I’ve never had any self-control where the slender dark-skinned boy is concerned. Right now, I need him more than I need to breathe. Hrishi sits up, plunging my cock deep into his tight body and releases my shoulders to wrap fingers around his own dick. The sight of him jerking off above me makes my toes curl in pleasure.

“Please….”

“Wait,” he commands, “wait.” His voice is ragged, his breathing uneven and catching in his chest as his fist become a blur. I shift my hips, knowing I’ve reached his prostate when his eyes snap open with a strangled cry. He snarls, his cum hot on my skin as he spurts over my chest and abs, and his slick tunnel spasms and clenches around me. “Come, now.”

I grab his hips, tight enough to leave marks in his skin, and slam up into him just once as my balls empty themselves within the confines of his body. As soon as I’ve finished, he collapses onto top of me and we lie there, sticky and panting, until he pulls away from me with a groan.

“Fucking hell.”

“Hrishi….”

“That was fabulous.” Hrishi kisses me, and our gentle lips give way to slow but questing tongues; I still can’t get enough of him, and apparently, I’m not the only one. “Do we have anywhere we’re supposed to be?”

“Not until tomorrow.” I grin happily at his description of us together, as though we share our schedules, as though no time has passed at all.

“Good. I’m going to go use your shower. You just lie there and look pretty.”

“Mmm hmm….” I very much doubt that my knees could support me anyway. I watch him pad softly away with much more grace than anyone in his position should have and discard the condom into the trash. A moment later, Hrishi appears back around the doorway with a grin.

“I missed you too, Marty.”

*

“That’s an excellent shower.”

Hrishi’s weight settles over the back of my thighs, and I shiver as his hair drips on my lower back. He sighs in a deeply satisfied manner.

“Gods, I always thought you had the most fantastic arse.” Hrishi massages my butt firmly, shifts his hips, and suddenly all I can think about is the soft warmth of his balls and the weight of his soft cock resting in the cleft between my buttocks. He kisses my shoulder softly, too softly, and then his teeth sink into my skin for a moment. I’m hard once more and pressing into the mattress. “I see your work ethic has improved.”

“I still can’t code to save my damn life,” I mutter.

“Well I never wrote a number one hit single either….”

The moment he stops speaking, I know he’s started reading over my shoulder, and I’m embarrassed. It’s like being back in my bedroom again, ashamed of the scribbles in my journal. As soon as I move to close the page, Hrishi’s fingers grip my own, hard, and I let him read the words that began to pour out of me the moment he stepped into the hotel shower.

“Your handwriting is still appalling,” he says eventually.

“Yeah, I know.”

“ _Wearing cross hairs on my heart_? Does that mean what I think it means?” When I don’t answer him, Hrishi ducks his head and bites my left tricep. “Marty!”

I roll over without knocking him off the bed and stare up at the young man straddling my hips. He’s different from how we were at college, but so am I; if the last hour has taught me anything, it’s that the truly important stuff never changes.

“You ever think about college?”

“Yes.” Hrishi smiles softly. “Remember when you had blue hair to go with that blue guitar?”

“The Gibson. I told a reporter once it was my favourite one, then I couldn’t tell him why.” I weave my fingers with Hrishi’s on the mattress beside us. He leans down to kiss me.

“You mean you didn’t want to share the fact you love it so much because your boyfriend made you come all over the damn thing?”

“Hrishi… we weren’t ever boyfriends.”

He bites his lip his dark eyes thoughtful.

“No, we weren’t.” There is a pause during which I count my heartbeats, and the echo of his pulse where our skin touches. “D’you suppose that was a mistake?”

I shake my head. In a flash, I remember Aaron’s first serious girlfriend; how in love they were and then how sour and bitter everything got so quickly when it went wrong. About three weeks after they’d broken up, Aaron came and found me backstage and admitted he’d taken her for granted. I would have hated for that to happen to us.

“It wasn’t for us, I suppose.”

“Not then,” Hrishi replies, and I’m unsure if it was a question or not. “We had a lot of great sex though.”

“You were my first.”

“Marty….” Hrishi looks uncertain, a soft flush colouring his cheeks, and I run my fingers up the back of his neck; I miss his long hair, but the curls look great too, and they’re still silky soft. “I lied to you before.”

“Huh? When?”

Hrishi ducks right down and buries his face in my clavicle. I love the warmth of him along my front.

“You were my first too.”

Stunned, I say nothing, and it’s almost a shock to realise I’m laughing. Hrishi sits up and frowns at me. I catch him in my arms, hug him tight until I can barely breathe, and then we’re kissing all over again, wet and open. I can taste his smile.

“I never found anyone who made me feel like you do,” I say eventually after we both part for oxygen.

“Let me guess.” Hrishi puts his head on one side with a small frown. “People think the big strong rock star wants to feel all powerful and in control in bed as well as on stage?” I gape at him, shocked. He’s stolen the words from my mind. “Apparently, skinny little Indian guys are supposed to be good bottoms and just get fucked.”

“So not your style,” I chuckle.

I’m not jealous, it’s been six years after all, but part of me is pleased and proud there hasn’t been anyone else filling my rather specific role for him. Hrishi runs his fingers down my chest, my abdomen still showing the evidence of our earlier coupling.

“Turn over.”

“Hrishi….” My voice is a warning, but I do as he says. The weight of his cock against my arse makes me shiver, and not in a bad way. He laughs gently, makes a pleased sounding noise as he kneads my butt, then his teeth sink down into one cheek making me snarl and gnash my teeth. He slaps my arse gently as he sits up.

“Better.”

“What the fuck, Hrishi?”

“ _Property of._ ” I twist to meet his eyes, and he’s smiling, but serious. “This is mine now too.”

“I’ve never….” The sentence just hangs there, unfinished.

“I know. I’m gonna be your first for that too. But, maybe not today.” Hrishi flops down on the bed next to me. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Or exhausted from fucking?” I pull him into my arms and nuzzle his silky hair.

“Shut up and play me your damn song, rock star.”

I fumble around next to the bed for my travel guitar. I still take the Baby Taylor as hand luggage on every flight, and by the time I’ve got it settled, Hrishi is using my crotch as a pillow. His mouth so close to my cock is instantly suggestive. I smooth my hand down his spine and he wraps himself around me firmly with a purr. I strike the first notes on my guitar and sing for him a song which is only half started.

There’s a lot left to say. I don’t know where Hrishi lives, and honestly, I’m not even sure where I live when I’m not on the road. Leon bought a house in the California high desert and we spend time there writing and recording, but it’s not home. I haven’t told him that my parents haven’t spoken to me in the five years since I told them I was gay, or that the last half a year I spent at college with him means more to me than being famous or singing for thousands of people. There hasn’t been time to share the stories of the road, or the songs I’ve written and sold to other people because I can’t sing them myself, because all of them are about him.

There hasn’t been time yet. But, lying on the hotel bed with Hrishi snuggled up against my side, while I sing him a love song, I know there will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End - Thanks for reading and sticking with us!
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